Should Have Named Him Simon

He's caustic. He's cynical. He's arrogant and annoying, though systematically and statistically correct. He is Simon Cowell.

Now, even if you've never watched or followed a season of American Idol (I did one year, because there was a guy from Greenville, SC in the contest), you have to be practically cut off from all news of any kind never to have at least seen some excerpt of Simon reading someone the riot act after a performance. Yes, on the stage stands some poor star-struck performer, having just sung his heart out, only to be drawn and quartered by the show's legendary lemon.

This morning, I thought perhaps, just perhaps, my son had been misnamed. After dressing the children for church and setting them down to breakfast, I retreated to my room with a second cup of coffee, to dress for service and to attempt a revival of my features that would spare my church family that morning look that we all love to pretend we don't actually have. On whim, I decided to try on a dress that hadn't fit me correctly at all eight weeks ago.

To my great delight, it buttoned without behest! Its fold lay naturally upon my person! Could it be that all this counting and exercising was paying off?! Strutting proudly from my boudoir, I asked the children--"Doesn't mommy look nice?" It wasn't really a rhetorical questions, but my husband was gone to work. I just had to ask someone for affirmation, and kids are usually a pretty safe bet.

And that's when my son turned Simon on me. He said, "No Mommy. That dress doesn't look nice at all. Go put on another one."

OY.VE. My new found self-esteem crushed utterly, I went back to the bedroom and did as my three year old had commanded me. Perhaps this seems pathetic, but I was unsure which perspective of his opinion to take. Paula would have told me I looked great and that I should embrace my new dress with confidence. She would have told me that little Simon was young and foolish. Randy would have congratulated me for having courage to try something new, but then he would have reminded me that "out of the mouths of babes."

Consequently, I left for church wearing a long plum-hued dress that passed the judgement of the highchair panel. Maybe I'll try this week's rejection again a couple Sundays from now. After all, there can be no doubt that I am making some progress. Once again, I am eagerly anticipating my Monday Weight Watchers meeting. This week has gone quite well after the Monday slump, and thus far, I have stuck to my guns and still have more than half of my flex points left, even after eating out at a pizza buffet.

Here are my grades for the week. For multi-vitamin--an A. For water--a B (not so much for lack of drinking, but for lack of writing it down, which is important for me). For Weight Watchers--A plus. And finally, for walking--a C--though in my defense, I think I deserve some copious extra credit. I only walked 5 miles, instead of the proposed 8 to 10; however, I did attend 3 grueling sessions of aerobics, and that aught to count for something.

My commitment for week #5 has to do with a little homework. This week I am going to create some short term, mid-term, and long term goals for myself in regards to nutrition and exercise, which I must then report to you next week, and make myself accountable. In addition, I'll give last week's commitment another try.

So Simon. Just wait until you see me next week. I've got my eye on the skinny jeans, and I've got what it takes.