Today is Wednesday. I had a staff meeting, as I always do on Wednesday. I play this game with myself called "best case scenario." As I am en route to something - be it a meeting, a run, an open wine bar, or a small jumper plane to Ambergis Caye, Belize where you had to declare your weight in order to determine the proper number of passengers, I run through in my head what I imagine the best case scenario to be. (If you're wondering it's "short, long, as many as I can without resorting to my LOUD VOICE, and no crashing omgmaybe I'll lie about my weight?) Best case scenario often times shifts me from the kind of worrisome "what if" thinking that can drive a gal to get on the highway going the wrong way, to imagining what could possibly go RIGHT and how great it'll feel.
Point of all this is to say every Wednesday I'm always doing something hard-core BCS prep work on the way to my staff meeting, as I'm pretty guaranteed to be under scrutiny for that previous week's weight loss.
"Why did this group not lose more weight?"
"Well, um, they ate too much."
"Why are they eating more?"
"I DON'T KNOW, ASK THEM."
Unless this was a clinical trial run on hamsters trying to lose weight, I'm prrrrretty sure we're going to be faced with what I like to call the "real life" effect. As in, in real life, people don't always lose weight. Nonetheless, I get grilled on this every Wednesday.
Why does it bother me so much? I guess I feel as if the weight loss is the most tangible expression of my success. Or at least the one my direct supervisor (i.e. signs my paycheck? approves vacation? sends me to Tampa for amazing conferences?) sees and dispenses his approval in a direct dose response. They skinnier they get, the more praise I get. Which, y'know, praise is nice. But the freaking rub is, at the end of the day, I have VERY minimal control over how much weight people do. So every Wednesday morning, I find myself waiting to be either chewed out or patted on the head, based on whether or not 160 other autonomous individuals decided to have a 2nd helping. Makes sense right?? If I spent some free time in therapy, I'd probably find a way to blame my dad for this -i.e. daddy approval now transferred upon boss??
Best case scenario thinking as I drive to work on Wednesday mornings: I am calm and unwavering when he asks me why that class gained a pound. I am emotionally unattached to the poor attendance in that group. I am confident that individuals missing will soon return having lost zillions of pounds in their absence. AM WONDERFUL, SELF-ASSURED, INTRINSICALLY REWARDED ZEN-LIKE SELF.
Best Case Scenario: I don't cry until I get to the car, I don't cry until I get to the car, I don't cry until I get to the car. I abhor Wednesday mornings. Sigh.
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