Ordinarily, one pound of weight loss wouldn’t be a big deal. But I’ve been at a plateau for a couple of days, and I was getting discouraged. This, despite the fact that my hair and skin look amazing (well, besides a few residual zits) and I feel better than I have in years.
It’s funny how fixated I am on the number on the scale, which doesn’t really matter at all. If I stayed the same weight, but had less fat and more muscle, that would actually be awesome. I’m fully willing to “tape out,” as they used to say when my husband was in the Marine Corps. I’ve lost an inch around my waist, two around my hips, and one and a half around my thigh, which is actually more important than pounds. Still, let’s not lie: I almost whooped when I saw the number on the scale.
One thing I have noticed is that I’m craving off-diet foods, and weird ones. For example, Adam and I were watching “Saturday Night Live” last night, and a commercial for margarita mix came on, and I was like, “Oh my God, that looks AMAZING.”
I don’t even usually like margaritas all that much. I mean, they’re fine, but I wouldn’t cross the street for them. I’m going to assume that this means my body is burning off a fat cell made out of margaritas.