Wednesday was Weight Watchers' Great American Weigh-In Day.
Before we talk about all the punishment inflicted on those poor scales, did you notice how many W's that first sentence included? This reminds me of a joke I sometimes share when I speak to high school and college students about the newspaper biz (and why they should avoid getting into it at all costs).
The joke goes something like this:
Me: So, a journalist walks into a bar and says, "Ouch, and you can quote me on that."
Class: (Silence, as tumbleweeds drift across the desert and crickets chirp.)
Me: Uh, actually, can you name the essential five Ws of journalism?
Class: Of course — "who, what, when, where and wazzup"!?! Just kidding. That last one should be "why."
Me: Nice try, but the essential five Ws of journalism are (drum roll) . . . Wendy's, Wienerschnitzel, Winchell's, Whoppers and Whatchamacallits.
Me: Hahahahaha . . . hardeeharhar . . . lololol!!! Get it?
Class: (More silence).
Well, at least you now know why I'm a writer and not a comedian. My joke and frame of mind kind of explains why I'm writing a weight-loss column, too.
Anyway, back to the results are in from the mass weigh-in. It turns out NASA scientists have calculated that our country's combined weight about equals that of Jupiter — and that's with our shoes off. (They know this because Weight Watchers actually has a franchise with a large scale in that part of the universe. It's between the Central Milky Way Wal-Mart and McDonald's.)
Incidentally, many of our bloated midsections closely resemble the large planet.
Unfortunately, I'm guiltier than most — and I didn't even have to weigh in on Wednesday to learn that. I tortured the scales Saturday and discovered that February was not exactly a month to write home about. And if I were to write home about it, the letter would go something like this:
Dear Mom:
I gained three pounds in February. Please stop sending me meat loaf leftovers.
Love, Jody
Part of the problem with February, of course, is all of the pigging out that goes along with the holidays. Did anyone in the government ever stop and think about the side-effects of having Groundhog Day, Presidents Day, Black History Month, Mardi Gras (meaning FAT TUESDAY!) and the sweetheart of all weight-gaining holidays, Valentine's Day, all in the same month?
Didn't think so.
Making my situation even worse was the added day for Leap Year. I would've only gained 2.9 pounds last month if not for that darn 29th day.
I've already started taking action to make March a lighter and healthier month, which was the point of the widespread weigh-in, co-sponsored by the American Cancer Society. I've begun reciting the old weight-loss mantra "Nothing tastes as good as thin feels." And I got a haircut (if I get really desperate I might resort to waxing certain areas, but we won't go into that). My hair is now so short — at least good for a .25 pound loss — that two co-workers sarcastically asked if I'm joining the Army.
Me: Hahahaha.
Americans, you can feel safer — I'm not. I'd be lucky to do even two military push-ups. Maybe I'll be able to do three by the next national Weigh-In Day.
It'd probably help if I changed my joke's punchline to include these five Ws: Weightlifting, Walking, Water, Will-power and "Waiter, I'll have a salad instead of the Endless Slab of Ribs, Greasy Potato Wedges and Apple Pie a la Motherlode, please."
Class: Hahahaha!!!
Jody Genessy's weight-loss column runs the first Friday of each month. E-mail: jody@desnews.com.