Well hello there, waist-wasters!
How’s everything going? I mean seriously. Would it kill you to call? The only person I hear from anymore is my friggin cat, and she just comes on here to post links to bizarre non sequitur youtubes. (Which are awesome.)
Alright, I’m done begging. So, I had an excellent week on the scales: lost 2.2 pounds this week. That’s like, a month’s worth of work at my current rate of progress. Guess I can just rest on my laurels for the rest of April now.
The thing is, I weighed myself on my wretched home scale yesterday morning and was utterly deflated to see that my weight had gone up this week. UP! I mean, okay, I said I was going to run (yog) 3-4 times this week and I only ended up going twice. But those times I went, I really gave’r, and I watched my fucking points (sorry mom) and there’s just no reason why I should have gained weight. And okay, if this were a blip, a one-time thing, I could perhaps be a little more relaxed and a little less italicized, but MY BODY WILL NOT LET GO OF THE FAT.
So, I was pissed. I decided desperate measures were called for: I dressed in my least weighty outfit (a t-shirt and my featherweight skirt), which is a pain in the arse when I walk to work because it’s so light that it rides up my thighs and I’m constantly pulling it down self-consciously. I could have taken the subway but I was looking to make up extra activity wherever I could. At work, I decided to forego any food or drink until post-weigh-in. I know, I know. It’s stupid, to put so much stock in a number that you have to use artificial means to manipulate. What can I say. I was desperate for good news, or at least not bad news.
So all morning I was sluggish and depressed. Anticipating another shitty result, plus no caffeine, plus I’m getting tired of the project I’ve been managing at work for six months. So noon comes round and I trudge off to the DubDub meeting with L-Mac2, confessing my silly antics to her, which she laughed about in a very supportive and understanding fashion. Get on the scale and… WHAT THE! Down 2.2 pounds?! Wow. Who knew breakfast and a DDP weighs 2 pounds? (The other .2 was obviously taken care of with my nearly-naked wardrobe stylings, plus a half hour walk to work, I’m sure.)
Okay, as the warlocks say, "duh", this is obviously not a result based on skipping breakfast. I’m saying, my scale, she done me wrong. Maybe I shaved an extra half pound off with my morning neuroses, possibly a pound. Whatever, I’ll take it. Of course this introduces next week’s big dilemma: do I repeat this ridiculousness to ensure an accurate measurement from one week to the next? Or do I grow up and stop pulling stupid desperate acts of starvation and crankiness towards my co-workers and the world in general?
Wow, what a cliffhanger. For sure you’ll be tuning in next week to find out.
How’s everything going? I mean seriously. Would it kill you to call? The only person I hear from anymore is my friggin cat, and she just comes on here to post links to bizarre non sequitur youtubes. (Which are awesome.)
Alright, I’m done begging. So, I had an excellent week on the scales: lost 2.2 pounds this week. That’s like, a month’s worth of work at my current rate of progress. Guess I can just rest on my laurels for the rest of April now.
The thing is, I weighed myself on my wretched home scale yesterday morning and was utterly deflated to see that my weight had gone up this week. UP! I mean, okay, I said I was going to run (yog) 3-4 times this week and I only ended up going twice. But those times I went, I really gave’r, and I watched my fucking points (sorry mom) and there’s just no reason why I should have gained weight. And okay, if this were a blip, a one-time thing, I could perhaps be a little more relaxed and a little less italicized, but MY BODY WILL NOT LET GO OF THE FAT.
So, I was pissed. I decided desperate measures were called for: I dressed in my least weighty outfit (a t-shirt and my featherweight skirt), which is a pain in the arse when I walk to work because it’s so light that it rides up my thighs and I’m constantly pulling it down self-consciously. I could have taken the subway but I was looking to make up extra activity wherever I could. At work, I decided to forego any food or drink until post-weigh-in. I know, I know. It’s stupid, to put so much stock in a number that you have to use artificial means to manipulate. What can I say. I was desperate for good news, or at least not bad news.
So all morning I was sluggish and depressed. Anticipating another shitty result, plus no caffeine, plus I’m getting tired of the project I’ve been managing at work for six months. So noon comes round and I trudge off to the DubDub meeting with L-Mac2, confessing my silly antics to her, which she laughed about in a very supportive and understanding fashion. Get on the scale and… WHAT THE! Down 2.2 pounds?! Wow. Who knew breakfast and a DDP weighs 2 pounds? (The other .2 was obviously taken care of with my nearly-naked wardrobe stylings, plus a half hour walk to work, I’m sure.)
Okay, as the warlocks say, "duh", this is obviously not a result based on skipping breakfast. I’m saying, my scale, she done me wrong. Maybe I shaved an extra half pound off with my morning neuroses, possibly a pound. Whatever, I’ll take it. Of course this introduces next week’s big dilemma: do I repeat this ridiculousness to ensure an accurate measurement from one week to the next? Or do I grow up and stop pulling stupid desperate acts of starvation and crankiness towards my co-workers and the world in general?
Wow, what a cliffhanger. For sure you’ll be tuning in next week to find out.
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ReplyDeleteHome scales are such treacherous and faithless friends. Well, except when they bear good news.
ReplyDeleteYay! for signing up for the run! Me, I'm sipping on a hearty bowl of miso broth (or so I tell myself...)as I read you. Trying to lose 50 pounds by the time my play hits the stage at the end of the month.
Let's email, okay? Missing you, and all.
xo
sng
Snaggest of All! I miss you too. I always love to get your comments. But agree, we must take this fawning display to email out of respect for all the jealous lookers-on.
ReplyDeleteThe Miaouw regularly rails against the scale. It is a blight on all of our existence.
I've been toying with having one of those blood type diagnosis done, you know, where they tell you what foods you need to eat and which to avoid, based how your body metabolizes it. Or something. I have a suspicion that I'm a protein needer. And maybe a delusional sucka.
ReplyDeleteXO,
BP
Lola, they should have set that video to that OK Go song. So are you saying you want to join me next time?
ReplyDeletePatti, sounds interesting. Although, not to be all naysay-y, but I already know what foods I should be avoiding and knowing it doesn't seem to prevent me from doing it. But that's me. This is you. I do find that chemistry / metabolism / body type thing to be intriguing.
You can never go wrong stocking up on protein. Well, you can probably go wrong at some point.