Well, friends, I weighed in this morning at 205.2. So I didn't meet my goal of weighing 199.8 on my 38th birthday. Which didn't upset me as much as you might think, since I've eaten pretty well lately so I know with all confidence that it's not real pounds.
I've had a great birthday; my sister drove up yesterday from Pennsylvania with her newborn to hang out with me. YAY! We got manicures and had lunch at my favorite Mexican restaurant (where I ate a few chips with salsa and half a serving of beans, and boxed the rest up for later). Best time ever.
Which was good, since when I took my first bite of dinner tonight, it became abundantly clear that my band has snapped shut in anticipation of the arrival of my period. (Sorry, Patrick, if you're reading and this is icky to you. Just be glad you're a man.)
Three days from now, I'll be rejoicing at the scale. (I hope.)
