I haven’t been to a meeting in a couple of weeks, so I feel compelled to go this morning. I wear a skimpy black skirt that I take off for weigh-in. I’m standing in my black tights waiting my turn at the scale when Betsy (someone I like very much) comes up to me and whispers in my ear, “You know there are men in this class don’t you? And the one over there seems to be eyeing your pink panties.” Of the few men attending, he’s the least attractive. I’m embarrassed, but shameless. I want to remove as much excess as I can before weigh-in, given last night’s dinner. I step on the scale. Not bad. I’m only up .2 pounds (121.8), which is basically nothing.
The next couple of weeks are going to be challenging. Between now and the 23rd I already have five big dinners planned:
- One with Meredith before theater (we speak every day and haven’t seen each other in ages)
- A big steak dinner with Gail only two nights later
- A date at an Italian restaurant the next night
- Three nights after that, a dinner with Zelia and our kids to take advantage of restaurant week being extended and to celebrate the end of the trimester
- And then two nights after that, a big birthday celebration for Shari at Capital Grille
If in two weeks I am only up .2 pounds, it'll be a miracle.
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