In my many experiences in the dieting world, week 1 weigh-in is like a pep rally before a high school football game. There is a lot of excitement, clapping, cheering and it’s a great kick-off to the long months ahead of hard work. During the ‘season’ of weight loss, there will be wins (losses) and losses (gains), but that first week is an exciting jumpstart and a promise of a bright season ahead.
My week 1 weigh-in this time around was especially peppy. I was down 9.2 pounds. My counselor literally said “That’s not possible.” To which I replied “Oh, it’s very possible.”
Why is it possible to lose 9.2 pounds in a matter of days? Did I ingest a tape worm? Did I cheat and starve for the entire week? Did I enter into a Paltro-esque cleanse? No dear friends. I just followed Jenny to the tee. But seriously, 9.2 in a week is kind of crazy, right? There is a very reasonable explanation for all of this. I call it, the Last Supper.
Anyone who has ever started on a new diet knows exactly what I’m talking about. The Last Supper is a dieters time-honored tradition of stuffing your face one last time before the diet forces you into a life of submission, treadmills and carrot sticks, oh my! This particular time around, however, my “Last Supper” extended way passed one night of wild abandon, and could better be described as “The Last Month-long FEAST.” I had set my Jenny start date weeks ago. You know the old adage of “I’ll start after the summer is over.” The last few weeks have been what I imagine heaven is like – eating without a care in the world, consuming foods that most people only dream about. No food was off limits. Ice cream, cookies, regular (!) beer, wine, bagels, NUTELLA! My food journal was like reading an entry out of Paula Deen’s cookbook (pre-diabetic reform). However, in my fantasies of heaven, the 30 pounds I racked up in this short period of time (no, I’m not exaggerating), don’t actually happen. Reality is a lot less fun (should really try to remember this.)
So when the scale showed a miraculous 9.2 loss in week 1, I wasn’t shocked. You see, the week before I had jumped on the scale just hours after my bender had reached its finale. I was so bloated, I’m sure I resembled a Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade balloon. I was retaining water like a sea sponge. So when that first Monday rolled around and I cracked open the plastic to my first Cinnamon French Toast, my body said “Remind me again, why are we holding onto so much water?”
So yes, I know that the 9.2 lbs was just water weight and my body going into serious shock of not eating Nutella as an appetizer before breakfast, lunch and dinner, but, I’ll take it baby! I know in the weeks ahead, unless a major organ or limb is removed, another 9.2 lb weight loss is not in the cards. I’m okay with that (I like my organs). That first week was the Pep Rally I needed for the long season ahead. (Besides, although the Triple Chocolate Cheesecake is no Nutella drenched bagel, it’s really danged good!) Rah Rah!