wrestling with Milton

I'm getting some weird Paradise Lost image here, but that's not it at all.

So I weighed in this morning and I'm up .6 and whilst it certainly isn't the end of the world, I'd really hoped for a loss, and as I write this I feel like I'm one of those bizarre scale-obsessed women, which really is not my goal in life. At all.

So I don't want the number*, and I know the week was actually far better than the number, and I know in my heart of hearts that I am not the number and while I'd like to blame the Slow Train Comin' that has been the contents of my large intestine, I can't.

The funny thing is, I know what's holding me back from getting back to goal. Yes, I know it, and I'm gonna admit it right here:

it's my estrangement from Jolene.

I mean, I haven't ridden that girl in months, and let's face it, I've gotta get my huff & puff on if I'm gonna see results and/or live the way I like, which involves a goodly quantity of fine food & drink and the exercise to justify its ingestion.

So there. There's the truth. Mr. Milton ain't a problem when I'm one with Jolene on a regular basis. That's the truth from which I must act, and now that the weather's lookin' good, that action is inevitable.


*"number" or "numb-er." You make the call.