Okay, I weighed myself. I was going to write about it the next day, but I didn't because I hadn't decided yet how I felt about it. I have, however, decided that I feel okay about it: I lost seven-tenths of a pound.

Yeah, that's it. It had been three weeks. Three weeks of sweaty exercise class and vegetables and very little booze and/or cake.

Seven-tenths of a pound.

My husband encouraged me to be happy about it, since down is better than up, but seriously? Not even a whole pound?

Therefore, I am okay with it. Not happy, but okay. I still keep thinking I'm going to wake up one day and go into the bathroom and see a much thinner person in the mirror. It hasn't happened yet, and I'm not holding my breath for it.

I think I have just switched my earliest childhood dream for a newer one.

When I was little (meaning maybe four years old), I wanted to have long, red hair. I wanted it really bad. There must've been some kid in pre-school that had that, and I longed for it. Not sure why, since I had a major aversion to freckles, and the two normally go together, but, whatever. Every night before I went to bed I would pray and ask God to let me wake up with long, red hair.

It never happened, in case you're wondering.

This dream was replaced by wanting to wake up thin when I was about ten years old. Still having that dream, although I don't really think it'll ever happen.

Seven-tenths of a pound.

Seriously.

So, now, maybe I should just buy me a long, red wig and a good girdle and go drink beers after work. I feel like that's the closest I'll ever get to achieving my dreams.

Except that I no longer want red hair (I don't have the skin for it), and if I do wear a girdle, the beer drinking will be uncomfortable and not fun. I need a new plan, right away.

Still, though. Seven-tenths of a pound in three weeks. Yeah, I don't think I'm okay with it. I need more Billy Blanks in my life. That might fix it.

from zillow.com

Ermahgersh. He kills me. Between Billy and Zumba, though, something's got to happen. For reals. Or else I will never stop whining, via this blog, about my weight-loss failures. And you will all be forced to read it.

And the world will explode, I tell you.

Aaaaand that's all I've got. Happy weekend (almost)!