Like Buttah

I stepped on the scale this morning expecting good things.

I worked H-A-R-D this week.  My body was mad at me last night after a week of tough, full-body workouts.  But you can probably guess what I'm going to say next.

Wait for it ...

Wait for it ...

Wait for it ...

It's a good sore.


I had to.  It needed to be said.  Because it's true.

But I digress.  You were probably wondering about the scale.

I lost 3.2 pounds this week, bringing my total thus far to 9.8 pounds.

Ask me how BADLY I wanted that to be TEN pounds.  Ask me how many times I stepped off the scale and back on, or how many times I peed (in the toilet, not on the scale) to try and squeeze that extra -0.2 out of my mean old scale.

But alas, my scale is nothing if not annoyingly and disgustingly accurate.  Which, honestly, kinda makes me WANT to pee on it sometimes.  But I try to restrain myself.

Regardless, that 3.2 makes me happy.  I earned every last tenth-of-an-ounce.

I'll have to wait until next week to get up over that 10 pound mark, but in the meantime, I've melted off roughly 39 sticks of butter so far.

That's like ... I dunno ... 8 episodes of Paula Deen's cooking show.  It's just a lotta buttah, y'all.

Oh, and did I mention that Valentine's Day happened in the middle of that 3.2?   That's right, even with a date to PF Chang's (meat 'n veggies only, thankyouverymuch) with the love of my life followed by some obligatory Valentine's Day chocolate, I managed to part with 3.2 pounds.

I'll own that.

How did you do this week?  How many Paula Deen episodes did you burn through?