Echoes.

I always relish the beginning of Lent. 
I suppose I don’t focus on it the way that I should – I always want to use it as a method to give up something and lose weight.  Or to try to fast more than I should.
And then I inevitably fail and make light of it the next year.

For instance, last year, I gave up Nicholas. 
Which.  Considering we didn’t plan to see each other during Lent wasn’t really a hardship.  Or wasn’t really a hardship that I’m not already used to.

This year, however, I broke out the big guns.
Soda.

Now, for those of you that don’t know, I have a love affair with carbonated beverages.
Champagne, sparkling water, soda, etc.
If it’s carbonated, Lisha likey.

They don’t, however, like me.
Or maybe they do, considering how long they’ve been sticking around on my thighs.

Besides a few personal revelations that have left me reeling and questioning the direction I want my personal motivations to go in life, this year has brought a knowledge that being addicted to anything really is one of the biggest wastes in life.  Taking luxuries for granted to the point where I am addicted to them?  Ridiculous.
(disclosure:  I am NOT saying addicts are ridiculous.  I am NOT saying that there isn’t a real problem and real hardships out there with addictions… I’m simply saying that there are people out there without clean drinking water and instead of feeling overly blessed about that, I’m off jonesing for a root beer.  THAT is pathetic.)

I’ve really been reevaluating my priorities and one thing I’m learning is, this money-grubbing societal mess of whiny ass people complaining about not being able to afford $200 haircuts anymore is NOT for me.
I don’t belong here.
These are not my people.
I’ve listened to sad stories for two years now and looking down from my high horse while I technically make the average salary for an entire HOUSEHOLD in my state is ridiculous.

My free time needs to mean more.
It needs to appreciate family more.
It needs to take care of myself better.
And in doing so, I’ll be able to be a better me and move on to a more final (yet not quite concrete idealistically) goal of helping OTHERS.

And so.  Along with the beginning of Lent and my soda-less desk today brings a new activity.

Weight Watchers.
Yes.  I am officially a part of those stereotypical middle aged women that sit around bitching about salads.
And yes, there is a reason that stereotype exists.
And when I jumped on the scale last night at my first meeting I realized something.

I have REALLY let myself go.
Fatty McFatterson exists and thy name is Lish.

In an attempt to gain insight to my usual eating habits – the one meal I eat a day and the snack I eat at night – I ate something I might indulge myself in every six months and THEN calculated points.
(being Ash Wednesday cuts out the usual 2 eggs and turkey bacon that I have)
So… I had chocolate milk and a package of chocolate doughnuts. 
I know it totally defeats the WW purpose but IN MY DEFENSE… I was facing 40 days without soda and I just didn’t give a rat’s petunia.
The tally?
21 points.
Out of my daily ration of 30.
So. 
Won’t be pulling that egocentric stunt again.

Still, with this being a day of fasting, all was not lost.
A granola bar at lunch added 2 points and leaves me with 7 for a VERY light dinner… considering the whole fasting thing, well, it’s perfect.

Score.  I am keeping my first day right on track.

For those of you keeping score that means today was a day without soda, without meat, without regular meals and starting Weight Watchers. 
Whether or not the food was what they intended, it actually falls in the rules of what I’m supposed to do, so I don’t feel like a failure, merely a hedger.

Stay tuned for the next few days where lack of carbonated awesomeness makes me hang small children and adults from trees by their middle toes.