I’ve been a weight watcher my entire life. Not a paying member of “Weight Watchers”, now known as WW, but a scale watcher. I’ve been a paying member of the traditional Weight Watchers now for seven years and you’d think after all that time, if I were truly working the program, I’d be thin as a rail. Not.

The first time I remember my weight being mentioned was when I was about ten? twelve? I don’t remember how old, but I distinctly remember my mother telling me that she’d give me $10 (?) if I didn’t gain any more weight in “x” amount of time. I don’t remember the exact numbers and I wasn’t truly obese, more or less “chunky” but I guess she was afraid that I would become a “fat” girl.

Back in the mid 1960s, you didn’t see many overweight children like you do now. We didn’t have fast food or soda or lots of snacks. I don’t remember ever eating any of those things nor do I remember ever being food conscious. So why my weight crept up, is a mystery. Mom and Dad weren’t overweight; none of my relatives really were, except for my Grandma Maggie.  But to me, she was perfect.

When I was in grade school, one thing we had to do each year was get weighed. Back then, there was no thought of privacy and all the children stood in a line in alphabetical order and got weighed and measured. I was always one of the heaviest in my class, and the obnoxious boy who stood in line behind me (and sat behind me, alphabetical order, you know) in class dubbed me “Brown Cow”. He called me that for years and after I became a police officer, I always hoped I’d get to pull him over and give him the most expensive ticket I could think of.

When I went through puberty, blessedly, I slimmed down. Not slim, slim, but no longer “chunky” but I always had what I termed “thunder thighs”. I was always so self-conscious about my thighs that I didn’t want to walk away from a boy and have him look at my behind.

Anyway, by the time I got into high school years, I was a size 16, which in today’s sizing would be about a size 12 (or smaller). And being a size 16 meant there really wasn’t much choice in clothes. If you could find a size 16 in a pair of blue jeans, you were lucky. And just to show how much women’s clothing sizes have changed, I’m 50 pounds heavier than I was in high school and only one clothing size larger.

I maintained a normal weight through high school and I remember when I graduated, I was 145 pounds. I can’t imagine being 145 pounds now. I can’t imagine being 175 pounds. My pulmonologist said if I lost thirty pounds, my sleep apnea would be gone. I told her I haven’t weighed 160 pounds in over thirty years and to be honest, I have no desire to lose that much weight.

After I had my first child at age 20, I think my weight went up to 160. By the time I was divorced when I was all of 25 years old and the mother of two children, my soon-to-be ex-husband told me I was “fat and unattractive”. Funny how you never forget something that was said to you 50 years ago.

Can you imagine, though, what it was like to meet someone at that time who told you that you were beautiful; that your long blond hair and straight, white teeth, were breathtaking? Enter the Great Hunter.

Yes, I met him back when I was 25 and we were friends for a couple of years until we lost touch. It wasn’t until almost 15 years later and we were both single, that we reconnected and started dating. He still maintains that I was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. He says when he was standing on my front porch in his police uniform and I answered the door, I took his breath away.

After I graduated top of my class academically from the Police Academy in 1986, I requested a transfer from the Jail Division to the Patrol Division, and although  I weighed about 180 pounds, I was told by the then Sheriff that he thought I had gained weight since I was hired (in 1985–I hadn’t) and I needed to lose weight before I could go on the road. (He was a wife-beating male-chauvinist pig who didn’t mind his overweight male deputies).

I kind of digressed from my weight issue. What got me started on this is that I found a small notebook I had stored in the medicine cabinet that I had recorded over 20 years of my weight.

Back in the mid 2010s, after I retired, I allowed myself to indulge in baking…and eating to the point that my weight ballooned to over 230. Coupled with my love of baking was the part-time job I had where I was secluded in a small scalehouse for ten hours a day and the most intriguing thing to do was eat. When you see yourself every day, you don’t realize what you really look like, and it wasn’t until I saw a picture of myself that I truly saw my weight. That’s when I joined Weight Watchers for the second time. The first time I joined was after the Great Hunter and I got married and I was successful that time in losing 20 pounds. Of course, like many people, I gained it back.

I lost 35 pounds on Weight Watchers in the space of about six months. It wasn’t hard. I always kept some points for my sweet tooth and did indulge every day in something sweet. I have managed to keep most of the 35 pounds off except for the five pounds I’ve been playing with for the last year. I lose it, I reward myself, I gain it back.

I weigh myself twice a day, first thing in the morning and last thing at night. My weighing at night sometimes is a bummer; if I have overindulged, then the scale hits the “tilt, tilt, tilt” and I’m bummed the rest of the night till I step on the scale in the morning.

I’m over 70 now. I never thought that at this age I would still be watching my weight, dying my hair, fretting over the way my clothes fit and look. I guess I will forever. (I’ve always wondered what it would have been like to not be conscious of my weight my entire life.) But I have so many other blessings that a minor thing like being “obese” (not my words, but medical terminology of someone whose BMI is over 30) just isn’t that big a deal.

Oh yeah…Happy 29th Anniversary to the Great Hunter and me!