In all my grumbling yesterday I forgot to talk about something good that happened over the weekend (besides the whole getting-to-see-The-Boy part).
The Boy has a scale, so I surreptitiously weighed myself Saturday morning. I was two pounds down from the last time I had surreptitiously weighed myself at his place.
Not long ago, that would have elicited relief - whew, I'm not gaining, I'm not a hoss, I'm not a nasty blob. But Saturday morning was different. This is a problem, I thought. And next? I can fix this.
And I did - well, I got started on the solution. I went out with The Boy and our friends and I had a tasty hard cider, an ENORMOUS order of steamed mussels in tomato broth, crackers at a friend's place, and a cosmo to finish off the night. And I ate all the bread that came with my mussels. I went to bed that night smelling faintly of tomato and cigarette smoke (you can smoke in bars in Virginia!) and feeling good about myself.
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