I hate that chunk of metal.
It popped up a few pounds after Thanksgiving.
OK -- that was expected, given what I ate.
But now it won't go down.
Wait, it gets worse...
It keeps climbing up!
I've been trying not to panic, because when I stress it only gets harder.
Hence all my positive superhero imagery these past few days. And my sudden interest in Herculean, epic nighttime jogs through Central Park.
I've been trying to talk myself out of a major freakout.
A few pounds were going to register on the scale, that was inescapable. But I figured they'd be the kind of pounds that would go away quickly too.
But they won't leave!
And now they've invited friends over -- and they ALL want to stay.
If anyone of you is a Quentin Tarantino/Pulp Fiction fan, you'll know that scene toward the end where Jules (Samuel L. Jackson) keeps telling Yolanda to "Be Cool."
Not only am I a superhero, and a nascent jogger/marathoner, I am now also Samuel L. Jackson. That's right. When I get nervous, I channel multiple personalities.
Since I saw the damage Monday afternoon on the gym scale, I just keep telling myself to "Be Cool."
And when I saw the scale go UP another pound instead of down despite two days of clean eating, and then up ANOTHER pound the next day, my inner Samuel said, "Be Cool."
So this is me -- being cool.
No more weigh-ins until Monday, when I go to the official scale under the control of the nutritionist.
It'll be ok. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but it will be. Right?
February 20th, 2018 Certain Freedoms
20 hours ago