it's been three weeks now and i've been really very good at not weighing myself.
this, of course, is facilitated by my not owning a scale.
my boyfriend does, though, and yesterday in a moment of weakness (and after devouring some SBD-friendly pancakes) i jumped on it. because i'm an idiot.
naturally, the needle was not where it was supposed to be. it was supposed to surprise me by being even lower than i'd hoped and instead, it was exactly where i left it last weekend. i even tried shifting my weight and jiggling the thing a bit, but really, i had to admit the inevitable.
"THIS TOTALLY SUCKS!" i screamed in an annoyed frenzy. "I HATE THIS!"
"what's the matter?" my concerned boyfriend, t, asked.
"i stepped on the scale," i confessed.
"i thought you said you weren't going to do that."
"well, i wasn't."
"so what happened?"
"i got curious."
"you were the one who said this part is the hardest and that you were going to wait a few weeks. maybe you're losing weight but gaining muscle mass."
"yeah, maybe i am. or maybe i'm just gaining pancakes."
"why would you weigh yourself after pancakes?"
"i couldn't help it."
"i'm hiding the scale."