The defining moment occurred six weeks ago when a woman handing out towels asked when my baby was due. Perhaps she was a health club prop, targeting prospective members in our most vulnerable states, bulging in bathing suits as we shuffle towards the lap pool. Had she seen my trial guest pass and known that question would seal the deal? Could she tell I wasn't yet committed to the mission and could have easily continued eating grilled cheese and milkshakes without so much as performing a single push-up? Probably not. No, I probably looked as if in my second trimester, at least. In a rage, I threw my clean towel into the dirty towel bin and stormed out of the club, first having torn a check from my wallet in the amount of $727.99. Gulp...
To complement my new get-fit attitude, I promptly joined the worldwide establishment, Weight Watchers. I attend the meetings at the center on Broadway and 86th Street, where every week they display one more piece of merchandise, one more essential tool for success. My first purchase, after the initial membership and weekly weigh-in cost (getting cute is not cheap), was an inch-thick booklet called the Food Companion (Why is it called a companion? the leader asks. Because we take it with us everywhere, the members say in unison). And ever since my eyes caught sight of the leather-bound Weight Watchers journal on the display shelf, a mere drugstore notepad has seemed a pallid place in which to track my daily points (on the program every food has a certain point value). Since math has never been my forte, I believe I owe my first five-pound weight loss (they say the first five is water, but humor me for now...) to the WW (that's Weight Watchers, not World War...) electronic point tracker, a fancy pocket calculator which tracks my points throughout the day. Indeed, I couldn't have cast off those first three pounds without the external reinforcement from the Daily Coach, the set of weekly booklets which include inspirational tidbits, i.e. testimony from lifelong members, motivational tips, high-fiber recipes I won't ever inflict upon myself again, etc... But ultimately, I owe my first five-pound loss to the especially designed WW organizer, the Weight Watcher's equivalent of a Trapper Keeper, where I keep all my WW paraphernalia in one neat tidy place.
Posing on the wall, Sarah the Duchess of York looks me straight in the eye and says, The more I can control my weight the more I can control my life. A Smart One, she is. (Inside joke.) Maybe she will adopt me if I buy (and, of course, use) the Weight Watchers measuring tools, the food scales (both old-fashioned and electronic), the Dining with the Duchess Cookbook, the Fast Food Companion, the Improved Expanded Food Companion (with 2000 new foods added to the list), the Weight Watchers Walk-o-meter, the Weight Watchers Dyna-bands, and the pink 3-pound Weight Watchers Hand Weights.
Soon enough, Estee Lauder will be shaking in her skirt when Weight Watchers announces their new line of summer makeup. Victoria's Secret will go under once Weight Watcher's lingerie hits the malls. Fellow Weight Watchers, put on your sports bras and let's go shopping1x We'll be first on line for Weight Watchers paper towels, toothpaste, shampoo and soap. Soon enough, we'll track our points with Weight Watchers writing utensils, we'll check snack-time on a WW wrist watch and burn calories as we sleep underneath WW down comforters. Our sensual encounters will be safe and lo-cal with WW condoms, and we'll clean up afterwards with a WW vacuum cleaner (with dual capacity for household cleaning and at-home lypo-suction), then drive away carefree in our WW automobiles. In fact, how about a down-payment in advance for a WW condominium, where we can all live under one stained-glass roof, with a health club and a towel-lady who asks us every day how we manage to stay so damn slim.
