I gotta say that I'm starting to feel a slight sense of pride. Not to the point where I mess anything up, but to where I can keep this thing going to reach my ultimate goal. I was good yesterday. Banana and yogurt for breakfast yesterday. Chicken club sandwich and salad for lunch yesterday. We were eating at Johnny Rockets and nobody ordered fries. My changes might be rubbing off on people. Kinda like that time you tried to paint your cover. I mean seriously. Who tries to look more manly by hiding flowers with pink f***ing paint? My thumbs were pink for a week. Sometimes I wonder about you. But I'm not wondering about me or my resolve this morning. Last night I might have questioned myself when I ate a cupcake and fell asleep with the baby. It almost seemed like it was gonna be one of those weekend f*** ups. I got up and put the kid in the bed. I laid around a little more and then hit the bike. Two hours. Twenty seven miles. My legs killed me when I walked up the stairs. They hurt even worse when I had to hit them again to get the pacifier for Mouse. But its all worth it and lets me know I'm doing something right. I'm just shy of 20 lbs lost, putting me about a third of the way to where I want to be.
So diary, go f*** yourself in the most positive way I can possibly mean it. Go get yourself some paint and cover that a**hole I drew on your back cover. Come on, act like you have some pride.
PS. Tell the scale to go f*** himself too.
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