It's Monday which is actually my Saturday. By the time you read this it will probably actually be Tuesday/Sunday because I'm posting this so late. It's almost 10:00pm and this is the first time I've had both arms free and the computer free at the same time. It feels good to sit.

Back to my original statement: It's Monday. Mondays are stressful days for me for one reason... I face the scale on Mondays. I was convinced that today I would hit a milestone, today's weigh in would be better than all the rest. I was so sure that after I stepped onto that cold silver platform I would be able to shout from the rooftops (er, basement bathroom) “I'VE LOST TEN POUNDS!” It's not a lot but it seems significant. Once you lose ten you feel like you've really accomplished something and you can keep going, the next 5 or 10 seem easy. I was ready for it, The Captain even mentioned the other day that I looked thinner. In hind sight he may have just wanted me to make him breakfast. But this was it, today was the day. I looked down...

Nine.

Seriously? Nine pounds? I know it's only a one pound difference but I feel like nine is just as bad as zero and ten is epic! I feel like a failure. I mourned by making baked macaroni and cheese with croissants for dinner. Because that'll help me lose weight....