I did not get a Coffee Roll on Wednesday. I did not get one yesterday, either (although I did get taken out to lunch and had tapas and red wine in the middle of the day, suckas).

Lame.

I did, however, weigh in this morning, and, after a really good week in which my armband metabolic monitor said I had an overall deficit of 7000 calories, I was proud to see that I .....what?

GAINED TWO POUNDS.

What. The. F?

I understand about bloat. I understand about hormonal fluctuations. I also understand that, even during my weekend anniversary trip with my husband, I worked out and counted my calories.

This is so flipping stupid, I can't even stand it. I guess I should go down to 800 calories a day? Or maybe work out two hours a day, EVERY DAY, instead of just the one? Because, seriously. I may break my monitor (which I wear, faithfully, twenty-three hours per day).

I almost punched my Wii icon thingy in the face when it got fatter this morning. Little turd. Being all smug in your white workout pants (Would I ever wear those? No. Therefore they are not realistic.), asking me questions about why I gained weight....if I knew, I wouldn't tell you. I would keep that secret and laugh in your face, little machine person.

I guess there's nothing I can do about it.

Wait...there's always beer. May have one of those. I hear they're good for the bloat.

Sigh.