Weight Watchers Quotes

Excuse me? Tonight you represent every dateless woman in this city, every woman who's about to sit down to a lonely meal of Weight Watchers past primavera she's just nuked in the microwave. Every woman who will get into bed tonight with a book or reruns of Sex and the City as her only companion. You are our shining hope....But no pressure.

Don’t trust anyone who promises you a new life. Pick-up artists, lifestyle gurus, pyramid-scheme face cream evangelists, Weight Watchers coaches: These people make their living off of your failures.

I'm a food addict. I've tried everything- Weight Watchers, The South Beach, raw food, Atkins, low-fat diets. Nothing works for me." I looked at him and said, "Have you tried suffering?" He laughed out loud, as if I was joking. I wasn't joking.

There’s an old Weight Watchers saying: “Nothing tastes as good as thin feels.” I for one can think of a thousand things that taste better than thin feels. Many of them are two-word phrases that end with cheese (Cheddar cheese, blue cheese, grilled cheese). Even unsalted French fries taste better than thin feels. Ever eat fries without salt on them? I always think, These could use some salt, but that would mean I’d have to get up and move. I guess I’ll just imagine there’s salt on them.

The words, I love you, are empty without clarification. Women prefer to be told what they can expect. It is measurable like a Weight Watcher’s diet, with extra points at the end of the week if you don’t cheat.

You want to know the story? I'd be happy to tell you. I think I have just enough caloric energy stored up to make it through the telling of the tale. It's short. I am monstrously fat. I am a glutton. My wife was disgusted and repulsed. She gave me six months to lose one hundred pounds. I joined Weight Watchers . . . see it there, right across the street, that gaunt storefront? This afternoon was the big six-month weigh-in. So to speak. I had gained almost seventy pounds in the six months. An errant Snickers bar fell out of the cuff of my pants and rolled against my wife's foot as I stepped on the scale. The scale over there across the street is truly an ingenious device. One preprograms the desired new weight into it, and if one has achieved or gone below that new low weight, the scale bursts into recorded whistles and cheers and some lively marching-band tune. Apparently, tiny flags protrude from the top and wave mechanically back and forth. A failure--see for instance mine--results in a flatulent dirge of disappointed and contemptuous tuba. To the strains of the latter my wife left, the establishment, me, on the arm of a svelte yogurt distributor whom I am even now planning to crush, financially speaking, first thing tomorrow morning. Ms. Beadsman, you will find an eclair on the floor to the left of your chair. Could you perhaps manipulate it onto this plate with minimal chocolate loss and pass it to me.

And when I stand in the receiving line like Jackie Kennedy without the pillbox hat, if Jackie were fat and had taken enough Klonopin to still an ox, and you whisper I think of you every day, don't finish with because I've been going to Weight Watchers on Tuesdays and wonder if you want to go too.

Weight Watchers holds as a descriptive axiom the transparently true fact that for each of us the universe is deeply and sharply and completely divided into for example in my case, me, on one side, and everything else, on the other. This for each of us exhaustively defines the whole universe... And then they hold by a prescriptive axiom the undoubtedly equally true and inarguable fact that we each ought to desire our own universe to be as full as possible, that the Great Horror consists in an empty, rattling personal universe, one where one finds oneself with Self, on one hand, and vastly empty lonely spaces before Others begin to enter the picture at all, on the other. A non-full universe... The emptier one’s universe is, the worse it is... Weight Watchers perceives the problem as one involving the need to have as much Other around as possible, so that the relation is one of minimum Self to maximum Other... We each need a full universe. Weight Watchers and their allies would have us systematically decrease the Self-component of the universe, so that the great Other-set will be physically attracted to the now more physically attractive Self, and rush in to fill the void caused by that diminution of Self. Certainly not incorrect, but just as certainly only half of the range of valid solutions to the full-universe problem... Is my drift getting palpable? Just as in genetic engineering... There is always more than one solution... An autonomously full universe... Rather than diminishing Self to entice Other to fill our universe, we may also of course obviously choose to fill the universe with Self... Yes. I plan to grow to infinite size... There will of course eventually cease to be room for anyone else in the universe at all.

When I asked him for some explanation as to why he wanted to kill me, he said it was because he didn't like his jobs. When I asked him since when had he not liked his jobs, he said since always. When I remarked that he had never told me this, and that I had gotten the impression that he had liked them, he said: "How is that possible? You know me. Do I strike you as stupid or boring?" "No." "Then how could you think I would enjoy being an etiquette expert, or a Weight Watchers' counselor, or a stripper? How could you think that someone like me, with my mind, my character, would derive any satisfaction from those things?

The food you eat can be either the safe & most powerful medicine or the slowest poison.

Denial, particularly self-denial, is its own kind of pleasure.

when you live with vampires, coming home smelling like blood is a lot like walking into a Weight Watchers meeting with powdered sugar on your shirt.

he's got more heavies out looking for you than are on the books of Weight Watchers

Susie, the Weight Watchers leader, helped herself to a second helping of the sweet potatoes with the marshmallows on top,

Like many women who've dieted on and off for years, I was scared to stop counting Weight Watchers points or calories or fat grams or whatever I was counting at any given moment, afraid that if I stopped restraining myself, my hunger would be insatiable. I had to learn to trust my own appetite, and man, was that scary. I mean, if there were no rules, what would stop me from just eating and eating and eating until I weighed five hundred pounds? How would I know when to stop eating the foods I loved if there was no one to tell me to stop?

I didn’t want to be on the Library Committee and I didn’t want to be on the Hospital Committee and run the bake sales or be in charge of getting the starter change or making sure that not everybody is making the same Hamburger Helper casserole for Saturday-night supper. I didn’t want to see those same depressing faces over and over again and listen to the same gossipy stories about who is doing what in this town. I didn’t want to sharpen my claws on anyone else’s reputation. I didn’t want to sell Tupperware and I didn’t want to sell Amway and I didn’t want to give Stanley parties and I don’t need Weight Watchers...And the only place to run from the future is into the past.

Weight Watchers points is a beautiful system for someone who is absentminded about food. They aren’t the greatest for someone who has had eating disorders all her life. The world became numbers to me and I was doing more math than I ever had before. I got off Weight Watchers and went back to just counting calories. The world became different kinds of numbers, the old, familiar kind. This is how I eat now. The world is still numbers, but it is algebra, not calculus.

Then I remembered how my Weight Watchers leader told us to 'walk the circumference of the supermarket', meaning to avoid the aisles in the middle that held the most dangerous foods: the processed foods, the foods full of sugary and fatty goodness. She told us to stick to the outside - the dairy, meat, fish, and produces aisles. So I did.

The biggest obstacle commercial diet plans face today is an educated public.

It's a lie to sell a diet plan that includes fast and processed foods, then implement a points system. A big. fat. lie.

You are your cells!

That’s not what I meant!” Georgia, face flamed in fifty shades of red, finally found the strength to chime in. “I said Kline wants to have anal sex.” I laughed at that. “Every man wants to have anal sex. They have goddamn weekly meetings about it like Weight Watchers to see if they’ve reached their goal. Like a motherfucking weigh-in. But that’s not what you said.

This is the woman who brought us the idea of living our best life, of becoming our most authentic selves. And yet. In 2015, Oprah Winfrey bought a 10 percent stake in Weight Watchers, an investment of $40 million. In one of her many commercials for the brand, she says, ‘Let’s make this the year of our best body.’ The implication is, of course, that our current bodies are not our best bodies, not by a long shot. It is startling to realize that even Oprah, a woman in her early sixties, a billionaire and one of the most famous women in the world, isn’t happy with herself, her body. This is how pervasive damaging cultural messages about unruly bodies are – that even as we age, no matter what material status we achieve, we cannot be satisfied or happy unless we are also thin.

This is the woman who brought us the idea of living our best life, of becoming our most authentic selves. And yet. In 2015, Winfrey bought a 10 percent stake in Weight Watchers, an investment of $40 million. In one of her many commercials for the brand, she says, “Let’s make this the year of our best body.” The implication is, of course, that our current bodies are not our best bodies, not by a long shot. It is startling to realize that even Oprah, a woman in her early sixties, a billionaire and one of the most famous women in the world, isn’t happy with herself, her body. That is how pervasive damaging cultural messages about unruly bodies are—that even as we age, no matter what material successes we achieve, we cannot be satisfied or happy unless we are also thin. There

But here’s the dilemma: Why is “how-to” so alluring when, truthfully, we already know “how to” yet we’re still standing in the same place longing for more joy, connection, and meaning? Most everyone reading this book knows how to eat healthy. I can tell you the Weight Watcher points for every food in the grocery store. I can recite the South Beach Phase I grocery shopping list and the glycemic index like they’re the Pledge of Allegiance. We know how to eat healthy. We also know how to make good choices with our money. We know how to take care of our emotional needs. We know all of this, yet … We are the most obese, medicated, addicted, and in-debt Americans EVER. Why? We have more access to information, more books, and more good science—why are we struggling like never before? Because we don’t talk about the things that get in the way of doing what we know is best for us, our children, our families, our organizations, and our communities. I can know everything there is to know about eating healthy, but if it’s one of those days when Ellen is struggling with a school project and Charlie’s home sick from school and I’m trying to make a writing deadline and Homeland Security increased the threat level and our grass is dying and my jeans don’t fit and the economy is tanking and the Internet is down and we’re out of poop bags for the dog—forget it! All I want to do is snuff out the sizzling anxiety with a pumpkin muffin, a bag of chips, and chocolate. We don’t talk about what keeps us eating until we’re sick, busy beyond human scale, desperate to numb and take the edge off, and full of so much anxiety and self-doubt that we can’t act on what we know is best for us. We don’t talk about the hustle for worthiness that’s become such a part of our lives that we don’t even realize that we’re dancing. When I’m having one of those days that I just described, some of the anxiety is just a part of living, but there are days when most of my anxiety grows out of the expectations I put on myself. I want Ellen’s project to be amazing. I want to take care of Charlie without worrying about my own deadlines. I want to show the world how great I am at balancing my family and career. I want our yard to look beautiful. I want people to see us picking up our dog’s poop in biodegradable bags and think, My God! They are such outstanding citizens. There are days when I can fight the urge to be everything to everyone, and there are days when it gets the best of me.

THIS IS MY ABC BOOK of people God loves. We’ll start with . . .           A: God loves Adorable people. God loves those who are Affable and Affectionate. God loves Ambulance drivers, Artists, Accordion players, Astronauts, Airplane pilots, and Acrobats. God loves African Americans, the Amish, Anglicans, and Animal husbandry workers. God loves Animal-rights Activists, Astrologers, Adulterers, Addicts, Atheists, and Abortionists.           B: God loves Babies. God loves Bible readers. God loves Baptists and Barbershop quartets . . . Boys and Boy Band members . . . Blondes, Brunettes, and old ladies with Blue hair. He loves the Bedraggled, the Beat up, and the Burnt out . . . the Bullied and the Bullies . . . people who are Brave, Busy, Bossy, Bitter, Boastful, Bored, and Boorish. God loves all the Blue men in the Blue Man Group.           C: God loves Crystal meth junkies,           D: Drag queens,           E: and Elvis impersonators.           F: God loves the Faithful and the Faithless, the Fearful and the Fearless. He loves people from Fiji, Finland, and France; people who Fight for Freedom, their Friends, and their right to party; and God loves people who sound like Fat Albert . . . “Hey, hey, hey!”           G: God loves Greedy Guatemalan Gynecologists.           H: God loves Homosexuals, and people who are Homophobic, and all the Homo sapiens in between.           I: God loves IRS auditors.           J: God loves late-night talk-show hosts named Jimmy (Fallon or Kimmel), people who eat Jim sausages (Dean or Slim), people who love Jams (hip-hop or strawberry), singers named Justin (Timberlake or Bieber), and people who aren’t ready for this Jelly (Beyoncé’s or grape).           K: God loves Khloe Kardashian, Kourtney Kardashian, Kim Kardashian, and Kanye Kardashian. (Please don’t tell him I said that.)           L: God loves people in Laos and people who are feeling Lousy. God loves people who are Ludicrous, and God loves Ludacris. God loves Ladies, and God loves Lady Gaga.           M: God loves Ministers, Missionaries, and Meter maids; people who are Malicious, Meticulous, Mischievous, and Mysterious; people who collect Marbles and people who have lost their Marbles . . . and Miley Cyrus.           N: God loves Ninjas, Nudists, and Nose pickers,           O: Obstetricians, Orthodontists, Optometrists, Ophthalmologists, and Overweight Obituary writers,           P: Pimps, Pornographers, and Pedophiles,           Q: the Queen of England, the members of the band Queen, and Queen Latifah.           R: God loves the people of Rwanda and the Rebels who committed genocide against them.           S: God loves Strippers in Stilettos working on the Strip in Sin City;           T: it’s not unusual that God loves Tom Jones.           U: God loves people from the United States, the United Kingdom, and the United Arab Emirates; Ukrainians and Uruguayans, the Unemployed and Unemployment inspectors; blind baseball Umpires and shady Used-car salesmen. God loves Ushers, and God loves Usher.           V: God loves Vegetarians in Virginia Beach, Vegans in Vietnam, and people who eat lots of Vanilla bean ice cream in Las Vegas.           W: The great I AM loves will.i.am. He loves Waitresses who work at Waffle Houses, Weirdos who have gotten lots of Wet Willies, and Weight Watchers who hide Whatchamacallits in their Windbreakers.           X: God loves X-ray technicians.           Y: God loves You.           Z: God loves Zoologists who are preparing for the Zombie apocalypse. God . . . is for the rest of us. And we have the responsibility, the honor, of letting the world know that God is for them, and he’s inviting them into a life-changing relationship with him. So let ’em know.

Number Of Servings: 2 Total

Obesity is so rampant that it seems contagious. It’s an epidemic now, and it’s spreading to other countries— the British are gaining, the Chinese are gaining, even the French are gaining— which makes it a pandemic. There are frantic efforts to make it stop. Weight Watchers and Overeaters Anonymous were just early tactics in a long war that would go on to include the Pritikin Principle, the Scarsdale Medical Diet, Slimfast, the Atkins Diet, the South Beach Diet, The Zone, Nutrisystem, Jenny Craig, the Blood Type Diet, the Mediterranean Diet, the Master Cleanse, the DASH diet, the Cabbage Soup Diet, the Paleo Diet, and the Raw Diet. Americans have eaten fat- burning grapefruits, consumed cabbage soup for seven straight days, calculated their daily points target, followed the easy and customizable menu plan, dialed the 1- 800 number to speak to a live weight- loss counselor, taken cider vinegar pills, snacked strategically, eliminated high- glycemic vegetables during the fourteen- day induction phase, achieved a 40:30:30 calorie ratio, brought insulin and glucagon into balance, sought scientific guidance from celebrities, abstained from the deadly cultural practice known as cooking, tanned and then bled themselves to more fully mimic the caveman state, asked that the chef please prepare the omelet with no yolks, and attained the fat- burning metabolic nirvana known as ketosis. It has all been a terrible, amazing failure.

Quiche

There have even been class action lawsuits launched against Applebee’s, Chili’s, On the Border, Macaroni Grill, and Weight Watchers following the laboratory evaluation of restaurant meals listed as being low in calories (and specially designed for WeightWatchers) when the results demonstrated markedly higher calories—sometimes more than double—than what was posted.

Commercial diet plans may help you lose the weight temporarily, but statistically you are guaranteed to be a return customer in one to three years. Why? Because you've learned absolutely nothing about proper diet.

Goals have been set and a plan of action agreed upon; this constitutes the setting up period of the programme and will take some time at the beginning. The coach’s role now shifts to one of monitoring the learners as they pursue their goals and practise English as they have planned to do. Just as the weight watchers weigh themselves at each meeting, students need to measure their progress, celebrate success and, when they don’t achieve their goals, reflect on why. The coach is there to lend support and guidance. For this to happen, lessons should now regularly address the learners’ language lives outside of class. This needs to be established as part of the routine of the classroom. Decide when and how often you wish to coach them, but we suggest a minimum of 10% of class time devoted to it. That means at least 20 minutes a week if you have lessons 3 hours a week. In this time, you can: •  let your learners share how they are feeling about English. Revisit the activities in the Motivate! section. •  let learners share their favourite activities and techniques for learning English. One format for letting learners do this is suggested in the activity 'Swap Shop'. Another is to nominate a different student each week to tell the class about one technique, website, activity, book or other resource that they have used to practise English and to talk about why and how they use it. •  set specific activities for language practice from the Student’s Book •  tell students to try out any activities they like from the Student’s Book •  demonstrate specific activities and techniques from websites and other sources. This can be more effective than just telling them. If they see how good it is and try it out for themselves in class, they will be more likely to do it on their own.

with Parmesan Serves 4 • Gluten Free 4 cups cauliflower florets 4 cups broccoli florets 1 tablespoon olive oil ¼ teaspoon salt ⅛ teaspoon black pepper 2 tablespoons grated Parmesan cheese 1 tablespoon lemon juice 1 Preheat oven to 425ºF. Spray large rimmed baking sheet with nonstick spray. 2 Place cauliflower and broccoli on baking sheet; add oil, salt, and pepper and toss to coat. Spread vegetables evenly in pan. 3 Roast, stirring once, until vegetables are browned and tender, 20–25 minutes. 4 Transfer vegetables to medium bowl; add cheese and lemon juice and toss to combine. PER SERVING (GENEROUS 1 CUP): 96 Cal, 5 g Total Fat, 1 g Sat Fat, 0 g Trans Fat, 2 mg Chol, 260 mg Sod, 10 g Total Carb, 3 g Sugar, 4 g Fib, 5 g Prot, 100 mg Calc. PointsPlus value: 3

This is the kind of dumb shit I notice, that a bitch the circumference of my forearm took two bites out of a low-fat cheese enchilada and carelessly wasted the remaining 200 calories and three unused Weight Watchers points down the garbage disposal in the community kitchen.

The largest, longest, best-designed randomized trial of a commercial program was funded by Weight Watchers,919 and after two years, the best it could show was an average weight loss of only about 3 percent compared to a “self-help” control group given informational resources and a couple of nutrition counseling sessions.920 Imagine all that time and energy spent in weekly Weight Watchers meetings to lose only an average of about three pounds a year.

Adam Minsky, a young man weighing 230 pounds, reported that he lost 51 pounds in four months by eating only once per day. He’s tried various diet plans, such as Atkins, South Beach, Weight Watchers, Jenny Craig, and many others, but found that eating only once per day worked like nothing he had tried before. In one week he lost six pounds and in the first month, he lost 15 pounds. In four months, he lost 51 pounds. One year later, he had maintained his weight loss.

Maybe I should have gone back to Weight Watchers and tried harder to lose my luscious hips and overlarge ass. If I’d known it might keep me from being abducted by aliens, you bet I would have counted points until Doomsday. “It’s

And then it was my turn. I stood there, shoulders back, head high, eyes focused somewhere over Sorcha’s left shoulder as, wordlessly, she stalked back from retrieving my oath gift from the chariot. And what she gave me . . . was already mine. My sword. The only thing other than me that had survived the long journey from Durovernum. The thing that had convinced Charon that I had value and had prompted my sister to buy my life for a ridiculous amount of money. It seemed that she had commissioned a new leather sheath for it, dyed black and embossed with the intricate, tortuously beautiful artwork of our people. Sorcha belted the sword around my waist and, as its comforting weight settled against my left hip, my hand dropped reflexively to rest on the hilt. It felt as though a severed limb had suddenly been sewn back onto my body. But then I noticed that on my right hip there hung a second—empty—sheath. I frowned in confusion, then glanced up into my sister’s face. With a start, I saw that there was the thin line of a scar, beneath the blue-painted designs on her forehead, running from the shock of silver in her hair down to her over-dark eye. She stared down at me, her expression fierce and hard, as her right hand crossed her body to her own left hip, and she drew the sword she wore. It was a twin to my blade. The sword she had carried into battle the last time I’d seen her. With a swift, brief-as-lightning flourish, she resheathed the blade in the empty scabbard on my hip. A murmur rippled through the watchers beneath the portico. The dimachaerus technique—fighting with two swords—was a rare choice among gladiatrices, and so the second sword was a rare gift. Of course, no one there watching would come close to understanding the true significance of Sorcha’s gift to me. I wasn’t even sure if I understood it.

Our sanctification is more like a Weight Watchers program than listening to a book on tape.

old Vedic saying: “When you eat standing up, death looks over your shoulder.” Imagine what they would say about eating while driving your car! The epitome of unconscious eating is a Weight Watchers promotion a few years ago that offered an “eat while you drive” breakfast kit. This particular bit of madness included a box that would hold the coffee and breakfast meal without spilling it all over your car, so you could drive with one hand while eating with the other, focusing fully on neither. We generally rush through our meals while driving, talking on the phone, opening mail, or even working at our desks, not focused on our food at all. No wonder we’re always hungry—our bodies have little or no memory of having eaten anything! Would the French style of eating work for

chill.

Anything with the word 'Tesco' or 'Weight Watchers' on the label should be viewed with some suspicion.

My friends often cite my life as being an inspiration to them, and I have quite rigorously assembled something that looks really good from the outside. But that performance has always been a stark contrast to how I feel about myself. I had a gut feeling that Jean Nidetch knew all about that soul-killing mismatch.

I want my body to look good to me first and to the rest of the world second. I want to be someone whom I’d aspire to be if I were another woman or whom I would desire if I were a man. But I also want to reach some level of acceptance of the body I have, regardless of my weight.

Spinach    serves 4 2 (10-ounce) bags spinach ⅔ cup low-fat (1%) cottage cheese ¼ cup low-fat (1%) milk 1 tablespoon grated Parmesan cheese ½ garlic clove, minced ⅛ teaspoon black pepper 1  Put spinach in steamer basket; set in large pot containing 1 inch boiling water. Cook, covered, until spinach is bright green and wilted, about 3 minutes. Lift out steamer basket. Let spinach cool about 5 minutes; squeeze to remove any excess liquid. Chop spinach. 2  Combine all remaining ingredients in food processor or blender and puree. Add one-fourth of spinach and puree. 3  Combine remaining spinach with cottage cheese mixture in large nonstick skillet and set over medium heat. Cook, stirring occasionally, until heated through, about 5 minutes.

you’ve learned to align your consciousness with your inner Watcher and perch there, observing your physical and emotional feelings. Just one step remains in your contemplation training—the step that’s most profoundly healing and most difficult for a person raised in the rationalist tradition. You must learn to watch any or all of your thoughts without believing them. This is a skill that allows you to break away from any psychological conditioning that predisposes you to weight gain.

There’s an old Weight Watchers saying: “Nothing tastes as good as thin feels.” I for one can think of a thousand things that taste better than thin feels. Many of them are two-word phrases that end with cheese (Cheddar cheese, blue cheese, grilled cheese). Even unsalted French fries taste better than thin feels. Ever eat fries without salt on them? I always think, These could use some salt, but that would mean I’d have to get up and move. I guess I’ll just imagine there’s salt on them. Eating fries without salt feels like a sacrifice. “What am I, a pioneer?” When I have to eat unsalted fries, I often feel like I should be a contestant on Survivor or something. I look forward to telling Survivor executive producer Mark Burnett: “Once I had fries without salt on them, so I could probably live anywhere.

Slater felt the weight of his semiautomatic at his hip. Special Enforcements carried assault rifles as well GLOCKs, depending on their preference, but Slater liked his double-action, self-loading weapon, liked that the pull of the trigger cocked the weapon, liked the heft and surety of the automatic revolver.

Rather, I’m the kind of person who makes watercolors of sunsets in the summer while drinking cocktails on my roof, who reads a book a week and goes to French movies. My friends often cite my life as being an inspiration to them, and I have quite rigorously assembled something that looks really good from the outside. But that performance has always been a stark contrast to how I feel about myself.

Well into my mid-thirties I considered dieting my biggest secret. I wish I could say it was a thrilling one, like dating my college TA, but it’s more like waxing my upper lip—I didn’t ever want to talk about it, and I’d rather people thought I never had to worry about it in the first place.

I have been single for some time, and when I say “some time,” I mean so long that I have acquaintances who have gotten married, divorced, remarried, and had two children since I last had a serious boyfriend.

In online dating, I wonder if I have a nice enough face to get my foot in the door, but when they see my stomach and my thighs they’ll be disappointed. Including a full-body shot feels like selling an old couch online and having to include all the scrapes and tiny stains.

An essential truth about being a woman is that we have so many internalized messages that we are not enough that we might spend our whole lives coming to terms with them. And weight is sometimes the physical relic left behind from this struggle. I have been afforded the privilege to concentrate on this unfairness, but those ideas have seeped into other parts of my life as well. Who gets to move through the world with ease? It shouldn’t just be those in the pinnacle of power, a white man of a certain socioeconomic status or a young woman who looks like a supermodel. Dieting usually requires us to choose to live smaller lives—and by smaller, I don’t mean in pants size, I mean in experience. Losing weight is a tithe you never quit paying. It’s relentless. You can sacrifice everything at the altar of the bitch goddess of weight loss and it ultimately won’t be enough.

I know there are people who claim to enjoy dating, just like I know there are people who claim to enjoy a cold shower in the morning.

Tomorrow will have a diet in it, maybe not a go-for-broke diet or even one that involves tracking calories, but I will always be conscious of what I eat and how much I exercise. That’s why body neutrality doesn’t feel like a good fit: I’m never going to stop wanting to be thinner or to stop chasing it. I know my life will always be this way, and I’m okay with that. That acceptance, even if it’s an uneasy one, is my new normal.

I can say that all this focus on appearance while I was on Weight Watchers kept me really busy—I filled my life with healthy busywork.

Take Off Pounds Sensibly (TOPS) is a nonprofit, peer-led weight-loss program that has been publishing its results for more than fifty years.923 Not having to siphon off money for shareholders, TOPS is five times cheaper than Weight Watchers and may be fifty times less expensive than other leading programs such as Nutrisystem or Jenny

The Trevose Behavior Modification Program.2545 Named after a town in Pennsylvania, the program has been running all-volunteer, self-help support groups since 1970, offering lifetime treatment at no cost. The most demonstrably successful weight-loss program in history is free? Why haven’t more people heard about it? Probably because it is free and doesn’t have a massive promotional budget like billion-dollar corporation Weight Watchers, which spends hundreds of millions on advertising every year.2546 After