It's Monday, which means weigh-in night. I knew things were going to look good, especially since the last couple of days I began seeing first-thing-in-the-morning readings of 268-269 on our trusty loo scale.
All day today I felt really good about what the numbers would be. That feeling was in my gut, that I'd be down at least 1.5, maybe 1.7, 1.8 ... hell, maybe an even deuce.
Ummm, guess again, Gleck; the WW scale indicated -2.8! Two point friggin' eight. Of course I had to touch the gift horse's uvula because I was focusing on the cume total: 19.8 .... just 2/10# away from a nice, round 20.
Wow. Popcorn modification aside, I really didn't do anything different this week than before. There were no "undocumented" points this week. Average activity. Daily water intake was on target. I still had my Saturday boiled peanuts and big-ass Mountain Dew blowout.
Fine and dandy. Either of two things'll happen next Monday: 1) I'll crest 20 pounds removed and I'll get myself another "5-point star." Or 2) I'll maintain ... or, worse, gain. At least if Nettiemac's experience is any indication. Or is it different with us "chick-impaired" folk?
Okay, 19.8 pounds less of me. Life is good.
Ciao for niao.
--Talmadge "275.4" Gleck
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