So Phil and I have been going to Weight Watchers. He wants to lose some, and while I would also like to lose some, I mostly don't want to gain some. Psychologically I'm in that place right now where I just want to go BRING ME A TROUGH OF MEXICAN FOOD RIGHT NOW SO I CAN PLANT MY FACE IN IT AND EAT UNTIL I'M DEAD.
You know how it goes.
Anyway. We had weigh-in this morning, and I was worried I would be over my limit, which means I'd have to pay money--even if I was like an ounce and a small breath of air over my target weight. So before I left the house, I honestly took off all the clothes I could w/o being absolutely nude. I tried to be as lean as possible. Like, I would have cut all my hair off and pulled out some molars and amputated a limb, too, if I'd had time. Also, I didn't eat or drink anything, even though I ran four miles before weigh-in, which meant I was so weak I had to crawl through the Weight Watchers door on my belly. Like G.I. Joe.
But! It worked! I was RIGHT ON THE FREAKING MONEY. So yeah. I'm glad I didn't cut a leg off this morning. That would have sucked.