I hate scales. I have a phobia. When I was pregnant I refused to look at the scale during all my weigh-ins, and the nurses knew not to say the number out loud. There was never a problem. During labour with Bad, the anesthetist asked my weight, and perplexed when I didn't know, continued asking. Finally Hubs yelled "She stood backwards on the scale! What's not to get? She'd never tell you the truth with me in here anyway....just look it up in her chart!" God love him, he knows me.
Around the time I wrote this post, I sucked it up and stood on the scales Hubs uses to weigh packages for shipping. Gah! I knew I hadn't lost all the baby weight, but....gah! I decided then and there that I would lose it all before my birthday. I've put off starting until now, because I like me some Christmas goodies, and sick of food after all that gluttony seemed a good starting place. I thought about starting a second blog to chart my food intake and progress, and calling it 'fatness jones' but if any of you did that I'd march over and smuck you upside the head for being mean to my friend, so I'll do my journalling offline and just give you a weekly update.
I blame some of the weight on Hubs, some on the Princess, and some on Bad, but as none of them has held me down and forced Oreos down my throat I guess I'll just have to own up to some of that blame myself. I'm gonna drink some water and walk the dog now....might as well get started!