• 14Jul

    I woke this morning with a sense of dread. So much of my life was careening around corners and crashing through doors at a pace I couldn’t keep up with much less try and control.

    I rose slowly. Taking my time getting dressed. Walking down the stairs as though on my way to the gallows.

    Then I heard the fateful words, “Ready to weigh?”

    GOD I hate this dread of what the numbers show. I answered to the affirmative and began the ritual.

    I stepped on the scales and tried to be patient. I tried not to look at the pad she was writing on, but I had to. My eyes widened. NO FRICKING WAY!!! I worked my ass off all week to lose. That number CANNOT be correct.

    I mounted the scales a second time, as is the routine, and watched as she wrote the numbers down. HELLS NAW! A different number. Slightly lower. Within a pound of the other but a bit lower.

    I did the math quickly in my head. The average. What is it?

    HOLY MOTHER OF GOD!

    I lost 10 pounds this week!!!!!

    **Does Snoopy Happy Dance**

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