Egomaniac

I call it the “do you know who I am?” syndrome. There are just some days when my ego gets in the way.

It’s usually when I’m in a food or scale situation. Let me give some examples.

A few months ago, I had an appointment with a Children’s trainer who I hadn’t yet met. It was an assessment to get measurements and to take the step test—a requirement for the Strong4Life portion of Weight Watchers.

As Cami was doing my measurements, I felt the words bubbling in my throat. Then I blurted them out:

“So, I’m not sure if you’ve seen it, but I actually write a blog that’s posted on Careforce about my weight loss.”

Immediately I chastised myself. Oy, I sound like an idiot. But I have this need to tell people where I’ve been and where I’m heading. I did it this week when I visited a new doctor. I immediately told the nurse, as she was weighing me, that I had recently lost 70 pounds.

I did it at the wellness fair last month, too. When I was discussing my results with the technician, I made sure she knew how much weight I lost.

To me, it’s like when you have a ginormous zit on your chin. When that happens to me, I like to point it out before other people have the chance to say anything. I did the same thing with my weight for years. I’ll make the fat girl jokes, thank you very much, not you.

Now it’s a little different. I guess I want to make sure I let people know that yes, I’m still overweight, but I’m working on it. And this is how far I’ve come. That way I avoid the “you really need to lose weight” discussion. Duh. I know.

But last week, I took it to a whole new level. Lately, I’ve been swinging by Taco Bell for quick dinners. It happens mostly after Zumba. Something about those Latin rhythms inspires taco cravings, I guess.

Taco Bell, as embarrassing as it is to admit, was always one of my major binges. But now I love that I can swing through the drive-through and pick up a fresco taco (without cheese or sour cream) to satisfy my craving in a healthy way.

The last time I went through the drive-through at the Taco Bell near my house, the employee who was serving me actually remembered me. I was mortified. It makes sense, though. I always have the same order. I always pull up in my workout clothes, my hair back and face flushed from exertion.

“Hey! Fresco girl!” he said to me.

“Oh my gosh. You recognize me. That’s awful,” I replied. “At least I’m getting healthy stuff. I’m down 70 pounds.”

Dude. I had to justify myself to the Taco Bell drive-through guy. How sad is that? I might have my food relatively well-handled but we’re going to have to have a talk about my ego. It’s clearly raging out of control.