I took my then-fiance to the first meeting. Not kicking, but nearly screaming. It was a Monday night, and we were both tired from the first day back to work.

He clearly didn't want to be there, but he had agreed to it. Of course, it's never that easy.

"What are we doing here? Why are you making me do this?" he whined.

I wanted to walk out of there and save myself further embarrassment. The form was nearly filled out and the guy was waiting to swipe my credit card for the initiation fee.

But I didn't want to be the one to put my almost-husband through "torture" yet again. I offered him an out, a chance to walk away and continue the same habits we had for years. Pizza and chicken wings, anyone?

But we stayed, with an assurance from him that it was all my fault.

Weeks later, the man whose arm I had to twist became Mr. Weight Watchers, my worst nightmare.

It all started about six months before the wedding. He and I agreed that if we didn't lose a certain amount of weight by a specific time, we'd take more calculated measures.

A close friend of ours lost nearly 30 pounds through Weight Watchers, and it seemed the way to go.

The thing is, I hate meetings. I have enough of them with work. More than that, I've always shied away from the support group scene. While it works for many people, I hate the pressure to participate and I work better with one-on-one attention.

I admit I had visions of a sweaty man trying to hug close to his well-endowed chest.

And wouldn't I be too thin and end up offending people who needed to lose tons of weight?

Despite my reservations, I knew that Jack and I wouldn't lose as much as we wanted without a little structure.

Losing weight seems easy enough. Eat less, work out more. But it's not as easy as it used to be.

When I dropped a lot of pounds in high school, I basically starved myself, eating 1,000 calories a day and 10 grams of fat. But I never really had to worry too much, because I was playing sports for about three hours a day at least five days a week.

More recently, with the demands of work and no one blowing a whistle at me to make me run, I struggle to motivate myself at times.

Sure, I set goals. Don't we all? I plan to lose 10 pounds by my birthday. No wait, by the new year! Or by that next big function where I may run into my ex.

Silly thoughts run through my head. "Maybe I'll give up beer, or never eat chips again."

Usually, just when I feel the need to drop weight, I realize that I look OK. It's like when I decide it's time to get my hair cut, and sitting in the salon chair I notice on that, day of all days, my hair actually looks really good.

I guess I'm just afraid of change, or maybe I don't look as bad as I think I do. Maybe a bit of both.

I've never been extremely overweight. Sure, I gained the freshman 15 (and then some) but my honest friends and family insist I've never been fat.

Of course, those same people would be the first to tell me how fabulous I look minus a few extra pounds. The last time I lost weight, the feedback was amazing. I wanted to feel that way for the wedding and beyond.

As the meetings progressed and we started to pay attention to what we eat, the pounds started to shed. The 20 pounds Jack gained immediately after we started dating -- I have that effect on men -- began to disappear, along with his relaxed attitude.

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"How many points do you think that is?"
"We can't eat there, I don't have enough points."
"Why are you eating that, it's too many points!"

I've seen others go a little crazy with weight loss plans. Some people have to immerse themselves in something to find success.

It's just hard living with that type of person. Before we joined up, a coworker warned us that he'd lose weight faster and I'd keep it off longer.

But she didn't warn me that my resistant-to-change fiance would be converted so quickly.

Jack started out as the guy who sat quietly next to me, listening to the 20-something who blamed her weight gain on her boyfriend dumping her and the 50-something who lost 40 pounds while having chocolate every day.

He never raised his hand, not even to get a gold star sticker he had earned.

Then one Monday night I looked over to see my "Don't make me do this" man offering stories and tips and laughing with the other ladies in the group.

He even stayed after meetings to talk with the leader and make jokes. A WW guru was born.

I am competitive, and it doesn't always help me to be relaxed. But I had no intention of competing with Jack. I knew he'd lose it more easily. But when I signed those forms to lose weight, I didn't sign up for my partner to be my weight loss coach.

After a bad weigh-in, he would try to make me feel better by telling me what I should be doing to lose more weight.

"You really didn't write anything down this week."
"You shouldn't have eaten that the other day."
"Are you sure you want to eat that?"
"Why didn't you go running today?"

I know I should just appreciate his help, but when I know it's on me to lose the weight, there really is no way to help. I'm a self-motivator.

Worse, he would suggest that I was unhappy because he had lost and I hadn't. Couldn't I just be happy for him?

I was happy for him, and I am happy for him. He lost more weight than he intended, more than I think he needed.

But he feels better, and that's what really matters. He's happy with the wedding photos and now set that bar to judge himself against down the road.

"Look at how thin we were at the wedding," he says.

Now that he reached his goal weight, Jack just needs to maintain and attend meetings once a month.

I'm not sure what I'm going to do.

As the new year approaches, I am still interested in losing more weight. I did what I wanted for the wedding, but I'm not done yet. The program has worked so far, but the meeting scene still doesn't turn me on.

Maybe I'll just bear down and shoot for more. I'm sure my successful husband will have a few tips for me.

Laura Lewis is an adventurous newlywed who has loved, lost and doesn't mind sharing. Her column appears every other Thursday.