My day was almost ruined. It started off well enough- quiet house, nice cuppa tea, little snow flurries outside. And then I did it. I stepped on the damned scale. And that started the WTF part of my morning. Up. Three. Pounds.
I stood there staring at it for several minutes. And then I got mad... at myself, at the scale... I'm not really sure what I was mad at. But there it was. And geek that I am, I immediately started to analyze the past week (I only weigh in once a week so I don't get freaky obsessive about it)... well, okay, so I had a cheat day where I had two tacos from Taco Hell (yes, I know better). But really? Three pounds for two tacos? Hmmm. I worked out all week (five days)... and they were aggressive workouts. Hmmm. Not sure what happened, but there it is.
And yes, I know that three pounds isn't much. But all trends start somewhere, and I'll be damned before this will be the start of that kind of trend. So, I'm going to eat raw this week. Maybe a cleansing is in order, and doing the raw diet always seems to help... Fuck. Really. That's the best I can manage.