Good news!

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My watch is loose. Well, loose-er. This is great news, of course, because it means that somewhere, finally, some of me is disappearing.

And, just like every girl out there, I've always been very self-conscious about that unsightly fat that gathers around my wrists.

I am impatient. So to show my impatience who was boss this week, I decided NOT to weigh in on Monday. I decided I would relax a bit, give myself another week or so before weighing and measuring again. The truth here is that I just didn't want to be disappointed again. I wasn't feeling particularly victorious this week, in spite of walking 112 miles through Disney this weekend and passing up every Mickey Ice Cream Bar, Churro and french fry on property.

So I gave myself a break. And I didn't hop on the scale. Until after lunch. AFTER lunch, which is also AFTER breakfast (that's 2 meals now in my belly) and AFTER a considerable amount of fluid consumption. And guess what? The scale was lower. Surprisingly lower. I assume that this means that if I'd weighed myself before the two meals and 64 oz of water, I would have been pleasantly surprised, instead of grouchy that I hadn't "earned" myself the right to weigh in.

I get it, God. You're in charge. But if you're accepting suggestions of where to take the next few ounces from, I have a few. I wouldn't have started with my wrists.

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