It’s Friday… which means I weighed in this morning. I almost didn’t… it’s been a stressful week and I didn’t do anything resembling exercise Mon., Tues., Wed. or Thurs. But my great hubby offered to take Baby Blue this morning so I could go for a run/walk. So I bit the bullet and jumped on the scale upon my return.
126 pounds.
Merry Christmas, indeed. I was 127.5 for the last two weeks, which was fine (hell, it was GREAT). I was sure I’d put a pound back on this week, which would still be fine — but after losing for about 19 weeks, I certainly wasn’t EXCITED about seeing the scale go in the other direction. Then it didn’t. Cool.
I figure I have a 3- to 4-pound buffer for the holidays. I can bake my mom’s rolls and eat ‘em, too (within reason). I can have a glass of wine (or two) with my sisters-in-law. I can enjoy my brother-in-law’s Christmas Eve enchiladas. I think the very fact that it’ll be OK to do these things–in moderation–should help me keep it real and not dive off the deep end into Sugarville and related locales.
As old Martha would say… it’s a good thing.