Ya think?
Friday is marked in red -- oh joy -- and I spent yesterday dancing with the hippo. Bitch had 9 of my precious flexpoints by the end of the day. *glOWer* And I woke up this morning to see that my wondrous body still has me a pound higher than Sunday morning. And everything's bad . . . it's gray and rainy and I can't get hold of the ungrateful little harpy (the youngest one, that is) -- call yourself a daughter, will you!?
We didn't go out to get a treadmill yesterday because by the time he got his ass home and showered, etc., I wasn't in the fricking mood.
Yes. The weather (hormones, whatever!) changed that quickly.
Plus, they finally put the second season of The W1re up on ondemand and we are both Johnny-come-lately The Wire bitches so we spent a good share of Sunday and Monday watching all of that.
And who didn't get any writing done?
Oh, that's right. That would be: Me.
So what he went out and got me sushi yesterday.
Because as soon as he set his bigass foot out the door I unearthed a tin of cookies -- cookies that I don't even like mind you -- and proceeded to eat 8 points worth.
Yes, I counted. I sat right at my computer and while I chewed the first cookie -- I was figuring out the points on etools. I entered Every. Single. One.
So don't ask me who that was, yesterday, in my house. Because it wasn't me. I don't have a problem with secret eating. Never mind that as soon as the fourth cookie was in my mouth I threw the rest of them away, tied off the garbage bag, and carried it out. I wasn't trying to hide the cookies. I was just trying to get them away from me.
I mean, for a while there I was happy with my 3 pound loss on Sunday. But then there was that weather (hormones, whatever!) change and all of a sudden I'm thinking: 3 pounds? Big fucking deal. It took you a year and a half to lose 27 pounds, and you've got 50 to go. And you're starting over -- yet again.
3 pounds is so what.
3 pounds is nothing.
At the same time, in that twisted, diet-math way -- where 3 pounds is nothing -- 10 pounds is insurmountable. 10 pounds is impossible.
I think I might be PMSing . . .