I spent the weekend in my hometown, chilling with the parentals and my 92-year old great aunt, so you can imagine that wild times went down with the four of us. That old lady can really pound back the tequila-Metamucil cocktails

Anyway, since my family isn't exactly known for our gastronomic restraint, I had more than a few dinners at restaurants. I decided to dip into my reserve of WW Flex Points for the weekend, but I didn't keep track of them as I ate. I was really super proud of what I thought was a great job, eating-wise, because usually my trips home are an orgy of cookies and nachos and ice cream and buttered popcorn and fatted calves and those cute pigs with the apples in their mouths...

So I thought I was doing really, really well until I decided to do sort of a Flex Points retrospective on the weekend, and I think I managed to total up about 60 Flex Points altogether...Holy Moses, I had no idea.

So basically that means while I thought I was maintaining an almost Buddhist level of self-denial on my weekend, I was actually overeating, which means the last 25 and 3/4 years of my life have been spent, like, doubly and triply overeating. Like maybe to the tune of 3,000 calories or so per day, and that's really nasty.

So, Lesson #1: Weight Watchers is seriously helping me handle food better than I ever have in my non-dieting past, so I get to spend at least a tiny fraction of the time saying "Yay me!"

And Lesson #2: COUNT THE POINTS. Every point. Every Flex Point. Every bite that goes in my mouth even if it's just a random spoonful of angel food cake mix that didn't make it to the bowl (not that I would do that). Because I'm pretty sure my weigh-in tomorrow will show a loss, but if I hadn't overdrafted my Flex Points, I'm sure it would be bigger.