Weighty matters

Today it occurs to me that in order to take this diet business seriously I need to, well, take it seriously.

After 8 grueling hours of lunge/squat painting in my basement yesterday I'm feeling firmer and accomplished and, like a child, I want to weight myself immediately and see if I lost any weight. A scale would come in handy right about now.

I know, how am I supposed to track my goal of a 50 pound loss if I can't even weigh myself? Well, I never thought about it until now. Losing weight, it seems, takes much more consideration than just saying it I guess.

I could weigh myself at my parents house. They have one of those weighted scales like you see at the doctor's office. Of course, if I did that I have my dad standing over my shoulder asking, "You lose 'em any? How mucha you weigh? You fat like you momma...." My dad moved to this country from Hungary over 35 years ago. He still hasn't mastered English. The funny thing is he also forgot a lot of Hungarian, so now he doesn't speak either language well. (see dad above)

I'm probably going to need to buy a scale.

On the bright side I haven't eaten any chocolate in days. My brilliant co-worker Angie suggested low-fat hot co-co to nix my cravings in the bud and it works like a cool drink of water after a month in the desert. Angie sits next to me at work, I think her fear of my "I need chocolate now or I'llkillsomebody" ranting really made her think fast. Some people work best under pressure.

Today I'm going to an all-you-can-eat pork chop luncheon at my parent's church. They always have delicious homemade Hungarian pastries. It will be a challenge not to eat a dozen and stuff my purse with more for later, but I'm going to try. Wish me luck.