Well, my continuing Love/Hate relationship with Weight Watchers is still intact. They seem to be the organization that I love to hate.

I've been attending WW for over a month now. The big hurry up and join, "First of the Year Rush" is over. I've successfully lived through the outpouring of the masses in their annual rush of guilt and resolution. Many have come and many have gone.....Now its just the "hard core"people that remain.

I'm starting to get a reputation as one of the embittered "Hard Core Skeptics. " After my tirade of last week, poor "scale lady" doesn't know where to look during my weigh-in. She is afraid to not look me in the eye if I've gained weight. Now trying to read her reaction is like trying to decide if the Mona Lisa has M & M's in her mouth or had just taken a quick drag off a cigarette and is waiting to exhale.... So I ask you is Mona blowing smoke or reeling over chocolate ? ( Which vice do you think she's concealing?) But then I digress...)

It's been a physically challenging week. I haven't been exercising but have been moving 30 and 40 pound boxes all week. I've also been "dancing" to some tunes during this task trying to get up the energy and motivation to move more boxes. Will the scale testify to my faithfulness or will my body decided to hang on to every fat cell?

Have you ever been in or watched a weight watcher weigh-in? I like to refer to it "as the death march to the scales!" There's a line up (no matter how early you get there or how late!) There's a ritual.....Never taught but simply caught!

It begin about an hour before you actually have to leave for the meeting. It starts with this faint feeling of dread, builds to apprehension and, by the time you enter the building, has crescendoed into full fledged anxiety. You quickly look around the room for a familiar face just in case you need comfort or counseling after the experience.

The lineup to the scale begins. There you stand with all the other "usual suspects" trying to calm yourself, nervously confessing any dietary transgression to your "neighbor" should the verdict go against you.

You wait in front of the display of WW foods, cook books, and other dietary aids as you slowly progress to the scale. Flashbacks and regrets start to bombard your brain. You begin to replay your week with focus on the food issues. Your breathing becomes quicker as you slowly inch your way to the scale. The "If Only's" start flashing through your memory bank. "If only" I had eaten the veggie dip instead of the triple fudge brownie cake. "If Only" I had had brown rice instead of three helpings of macaroni and cheese. " If Only" I were 7 feet tall. "

By the time you reach "scale lady" you have already run to the bathroom two times, shed your shoes, purse, coat, jewelry, literature, said many prayers, made many mental promises , and started making up excuses in your head.

Then it's your turn. You sum up all your strength and step on the"lying monster" and await your fate. You never see the numbers (only the scale lady knows for sure and I don't think she's a particular fan of mine!) she silently jots them down on your booklet and hands them back to you.

Then the recriminations or exaltation begin. Amazing isn't it.....In one instant all our egos, values, gifts, talents, strengths, creativity and very essence are boiled down to a number. If the number is lower......Say 3.4 pounds lower (Yes I am bragging....Down 12 pounds now) then call me totally repulsive as I do the victory lap to the awaiting chairs.

Some women skip the scale and go straight for a chair. They "claim their chair" like a divine right. "I claim this chair for "Hi, My Name Is:" Did I tell you that we have name tags?......but then that's another story for another time.