“Points” should be a four letter word

I hate them.  They’ve taken over my entire life!  All I do is think about them ALL DAY.

Who puts peas in pancakes?  That's just wrong!

Who puts peas in pancakes? That’s just wrong!

Random thoughts running through my head at any given moment:

How many points is that?  

If I eat these points now, will there be enough points later? 

The yummy goodness on that plate over there is soooo high in points that I bet just sniffing it is at least 4 points.

If I don’t write it down do the points still count?

Does thinking the word “points” cost anything?

Will my husband divorce me if he hears the word “points” once more?

The point is, folks, that all this talk about points is, well, pointless.  It’s not the points that are bothering me.  I find myself obsessing about the food that goes into my mouth more than any environmentally conscious, cruelty free, vegan loving, tree hugging anorexic.  Not to poke fun at any of those people, but DAMN they’ve all got more energy than me when it comes to thinking about what drives me these days.

I just want to eat.  I want all that starchy goodness.  I want that butter and cream sauce.  I want to take a freaking bath in it!  Okay, maybe not a bath, but give me a break.  Sometimes a girl needs a little chocolate cake.

These thoughts are irrational, I know, but there are no Weight Watchers meetings on Sundays.  I cannot go hang with my equally obsessed peeps and garner strength from their shared miseries.

This is where I think Weight Watchers should totally hire my kids.  Those sweet little cherubs that I nuzzle and love have suddenly become my enemy.  They’ve gone to the Points Side.

Just today, I made them buttermilk pancakes from scratch for dinner.  They begged me for them.  I even made them into shapes like a cactus blob and an alien headed person.  Since it was my first foray into “from scratch” pancakes I had to taste the goods.  Tony wasted no time piping up.

“Mom, do you have the points for that?”

I was pretty sure I burned a hole through his head with my eyes.


Photo Credit:  photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/muskva/4577442129/”>muskva</a&gt; via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a&gt; <a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/”>cc</a&gt;



About Miranda Gargasz

Miranda Gargasz is a freelance writer. Many of her essays can be found on sites like ScaryMommy, The Christian Science Monitor and The Huffington Post. In 2014, she published Lemonade and Holy Stuff and in 2016 she published Plus Size Mama: An overweight mom gets real about weight loss. She is also a contributor to Only Trollops Shave Above the Knee, and Lose the Cape: Never Will I Ever. Her debut novel, Haunting Suspicion, is being sent to agents for representation. She is currently working on her second novel, Dragonfly, about learning to love what you have before it's gone.
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4 Responses to “Points” should be a four letter word

  1. Beth Ann says:

    And that is how I am afraid I would be also!!! Obsessed. I have faith that you will overcome and it will become second nature to “count” them without obsessing!!!

  2. LOVE this title.

    Sorry about the struggle, SIsta. If I were trying to diet now, I’d be feeling the same way. You know me–I obsess about obsessing!

    Damn points!


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