Friday novella in 3 chapters

Chapter 1 - Away it goes, bit by bit

Woohoo! I finally have lost 2 pounds in a week. Besides the couple of...um...food indiscretions (about which I've posted here over the last week), I was pretty clean with food and consistent and rigorous with exercise. I guess this shows scientifically that bingeing every other night does impede weight loss, and refraining from said bingeing facilitates it. Interestingly, when I first stepped on the scale, I was praying for something in the 195 range, and the weight first read 193.3! I almost passed out into a naked heap of dimples and pale flesh. It was then it occurred to me to take a picture, so I had to wrap a towel round the bod, dash downstairs to find the camera and then do the scale thing one more time. Only it turned into about 6 more times because by the time I had the camera ready the weight disappeared. Then the flash totally obliterated the numbers. But the other thing is that when I returned with the camera the weight was now 193.9, and there it stayed. Somehow my cardio run down the stairs and back built enough muscle to increase my weight by 6 ounces - har har. After I got out of the shower and dried off completely, I hopped on again, like any respectable addict would, and it read 194.1. Whoa! Time to cut my losses (gains) and knock off the scale dance. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

This progress is motivating me in a way I hope will last. I'd told my husband that whatever the scale verdict was this morning, I wanted to get pizza tonight for dinner. (Me no cook on Fridays!) But now I don't want to do that. I want to try and stay the course toward my goal of 190 by November 2. It's almost intuitive that I can make that goal easily now. But as any habitual binge-er knows, I could achieve a 10 pound gain by then as well. Bearfriend said in her post yesterday that at times she really can't trust herself. Yep - me too. It's still one day at a time, and one bite at a time for me.

This morning I feel all inspired and determined, but it would take nothing for the binge activator button to switch to the on position later in the day. It happens all the time. Sometimes I can resist calmly and distract myself; other times I engage in verbal combat and staunch resistance until I'm beaten down to an exhausted pulp and just give in to stop the conflict. That's where I know that feeding that aspect of me strengthens the inner binge-er. I hope I can remember that when she appears, because she will. And I know that what gets fed gets stronger. I want to nourish my increasingly healthy and whole self who deserves better than crawling into bags of potato chips and cookies for comfort and companionship.

Chapter 2 - Totally waisted
No, I did not pick up my first drink in over 18 years and come crashing off the wagon - that would be wasted, which I've been many times in my life, to say the least. (And before I go any further, I want to say that I'm not one of those recovering alcoholics who believes that everyone who drinks, or even enjoys a good buzz every so often, has a problem. When I talk about drinking, it is mine and the problem it became about which I speak.) As usual, I've digressed, so back to the topic at hand:

My waist. My bra band size. The skin between the two.

I started this topic yesterday before my good weigh in; in light of today's weight, it's even more relevant.

For all you premenopausal women out there, hear me loud and clear. Your bodyweight and shape DO redistribute after the change'o'life. I'd heard that for years, but never thought it could happen to pear-shaped moi. It's happened, much to my chagrin. Now I'm taking on the body type of a boxy elderly woman - think Bea Arthur with should pads, only slight shorter. Of course I'm exagerating, but what brings this up again is that I have bras that are STILL the same tightness around the band that they were before I lost weight. I also have some that are totally comfortable now, but I just don't get how this is possible. My monthly measurements at the gym will be next week, but as of last month they'd decreased in the areas of which I speak by over an inch. Now the girls themselves are definitely smaller, which further adds to my annoyance at being literally bisected into upper and lower halves by these agents of Satan.

After a few more pounds come off, I'll finally go and get new ones, but the thought of that is as appealing as drinking a cup of swine flu virus. Truth be told, there are only 2 of my bra rotation of 4 that violate me in this way, and they are both the same color and style. The other 2 are the same style, but are white instead of sexy beige. Could the different colors mean the dye affected the fabric back at the factory? 'Tis a mystery I'll be glad to solve, and I'm thinking the solution may be an old fashioned bra burning, ala the Equal Rights Amendment days of the 60s and 70s. I bet the women of the world who suffer from this lingerie strangling affliction could all contribute to the biggest bonfire of the fall. Burn baby, Burn.

Chapter 3 - Halloween Frights
I'm not talking spooks and goblins here - I'm talking candy corn, mellocreme pumpkins, autumn colored foil wrapped Hershey kisses, Reese's pumpkins and so on. Right now my local grocery store has 2 aisles stacked to the ceiling with halloween candy; and to add insult to injury they have bags of Brachs Candy Corn on sale 4/$5.00. If the bras are agents of Satan, this display is The Mother Ship. And there are similar displays everywhere, as you all know. So far, not one kernal of candy corn has passed through the portal - and if I stay strong and consistent with all that is working, I will have my first candy-free Halloween in my life. I better keep it that way, because once I get started, I can't stop. That is the absolute truth. For today, I'm good. Have a great weekend!