Tricky little thing just SAYS zero at first, but it sings a new tune after you step on it.
So much for staying off the scales like I told y'all I would last week.
To my credit, all last week I refrained from the Weigh-In Tango (the initials for which ironically spell wit, of which I'm usually not in possession at the gym -- but I digress ...). But after a six-mile run Sunday afternoon, the scales beckoned to me like a siren. Lord, that's pretty sad when a set of scales serves as your siren call.
Anyway, against some semblance of my better judgment, I stepped on the scales and -- much to my afternoon delight -- saw that I've lost a total of 20 pounds since Jan. 4. Woot, woot! Now, I just need to maintain my momentum.
I almost sidetracked myself last night, when I went to a Valentine's dinner at a friend's house -- just us, plus three friends, all single and hardly bitter. There was lobster, which required butter for dipping (sorta spank-worthy) and peach cobbler (definitely spank-worthy) -- but I only had one serving of each, unless you count the rogue cobbler-coated piece of peach that leapt out of the baking dish, onto my spoon and into my mouth as I innocently walked through the kitchen pretending to get something else.
Other than that, my diet was rather good over the weekend, and I've been in the gym EVERY SINGLE DAY since last Monday.
Speaking of the gym (which I started calling Gymboree today because it just sounds less painful), I apparently need to take a mirror with me inside because, I swear, every other day I find something awry on my face -- like, more awry than usual. Specifically, a nasal invader.
I check myself in the rearview mirror and/or sun-visor mirror before leaving the car -- always make sure everything's clear. Then, I do my Gymboree thing (I'm starting to think that's a little TOO gay -- like I'm making a teddy bear in the yoga room or something), and two hours later come out, check the mirror again and Bam, Emeril! Nasal invader(s).
This is part of the reason why I avoid contact with almost everyone while I'm at the gym -- cuts down on risk for humiliation. Oh! Last week, made eye contact with one of these two fabulous young women who work AND work out together. She was sitting in the area near the health cafe or whatever it's called, and I go up to chat with her briefly.
We were on the subject of hair and how long it takes for folks with longer hair to wash it, and I said something like, "I'd rather just wax EVERYTHING!" Really? For starters, why did I say that out loud? And WHY did I emphasize "everything"? I might as well have pointed at my chest hair or underarms at the same time. What a freak ...
OK, that's all I got, need to go outside and smell the coffee or something to wake up.
Peace, love and EVERYTHING ... xoxo
