Seriously. Seriously?

Well, fuckity fuck. Got on the scale last night, and you know what that bitch said to me?

213.6.

Seriously. SERIOUSLY!

That means I've put on about four pounds in two weeks. Which explains why I'm currently going through the 22 stages of grief. What, there aren't 22 stages? I thought there were. I thought the first one was Burritos. Fuck.

Okay, I'm done with the eff word. For now. My apologies if I've offended your near-British sensitivities.

Seriously.

I was so pissed. Still am, honestly. I am running like a fool. I am not, admittedly, tracking every calorie. But damn, this year has sucked. I am working out a lot, putting in my time, and watching what I eat. Evidently this is not enough. Getting older sucks, folks. Get this shit under control before you turn 40, because after that there's just menopause and fat.

Which I think might be the title of my autobiography.

It's not just the number on the scale, mind you. It's a general feeling of moo moo. And the moo moo makes me feel gross and fat and ugly and all the negative crap. Dangerous spiral behind door #1; don't go there.

So now you're probably wondering ... what are you gonna do about it, Margaret? Well, to answer, here we go:

• I am going to weigh in again tonight. The theory being that I usually weigh on Tuesdays, so the number might be skewed. Not sure I buy in, but that's what my fitness friends say. (My reason, incidentally, for hopping on the scale last night was because my Salsa/Funk class was moved to Monday, and I usually weigh on Salsa/Funk night; oh, well, I guess we'll stick with Tuesday.)


• I am logging calories on My Fitness Pal (myfitnesspal.com). Are you on there? I'm schmaggie; friend me.


• I am also logging workouts. Like yesterday, when I walked for half an hour, ran five miles and did an hour of dance class. (No, this is not a normal day; it was an exception. I don't usually run on Mondays.)


• I will remembering that my body is a temple, and I should not poison it. Harder than it sounds.


• I will performing my phys therapy exercises three to four days a week.


• Finally, I will be gracious with myself. This is the toughest part; I'm angry with myself and with the scale, so I have had a hard time looking at myself today. I need to accept that this is where I am, and then love myself anyway. I'll let you know how that goes.

So that's where I'm at. Incidentally, today I have logged all my food, walked for half an hour, and I'm feeling pretty good. Tonight I have strength training class and a little cardio planned, probably time to get on the bike. It would be so much easier to throw my hands up and quit. I don't think I'm wired that way.

At least not any more.