I'll Kill It in the Morning

Last night, I got on the scale, and saw the same number I always do. I was getting tired of that number. As the frustration was building, what occurred to me was the time. It was not morning, when I usually see that number, it was evening. God damn evening. That number has only made an appearance in the morning, when I am at my lightest. For me, there is a four to five pound difference between when I go to bed and when I wake up.

At that point, I couldn't wait to wake up. Finally, I was going to kill my goal. I wake up, and what do I see? Yea, one pound over my goal.

DAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMIT! @#$%@#!!!

Okay, so this thing isn't going to go away quietly. I am right there. Last weekend, I was good, and the worst thing I had was one drink at an after party. (My favorite bartender looked truly hurt, like she lost an old friend.) I guess that I am going to have to choke this thing like Leia did Jabba in "Return of the Jedi." Too big to get my hands, or even my arms, around its neck, I am going to have to take a chain, and ride it until it dies. (Look at those last two sentences. Am I on a diet or in a prison movie?)

My latest tactic is to not have meals when I can have snacks. I'm trying to break my meals down to six or seven very small ones a day, and make sure each of them involve some kind of protein. (That does it. Time for a therapist.)