Puns and Buns: coping with (non) weight loss

Bathroom scales are like 2 AM phone calls: they are either the wrong number or very very bad news. (TM)

Don't even think of stealing this little Ben Franklin-esque nugget! I've trademarked it, see?!? I plan on plastering it on decorative tiles, coffee mugs, key rings, and other tchatchkes, so that while I may never be thin, I can at least make money to console me.

It'll be sold right next to the current popular axiom, "Friends are like bras: close to your heart and very supportive." (I happen to prefer mine.)

So, if you're wondering if my pithy little truth springs from actual experience, the answer is, yes.

I hopped on the scale this morning, feeling less bloaty and a little leaner. Damn scale put all that to a screeching halt. This is very disappointing to me, considering that I have been exercising regularly, and have improved on the calorie intake front.

The first person who jumps on down to the comment section and posts that muscle weighs more than fat will be personally macheted to death. I don't care if muscle is a lead weight. I used to have muscle AND weigh less than this, and I'm pissed about it. I have gone from forlorn to out and out mad.

At the risk of having my children removed from my home by DFS, I will post yesterday's food journal:

Breakfast: snack sized protein bar, coffee w/ skim milk

Lunch: Bratwurst, sauerkraut, diet coke, coffee w/ skim milk

Dinner: 2 bourbon and Coke Zeros, 1/2 bag of lite popcorn

Exercise: 2 mi. jog

(We went out to lunch, Osman's Midtown yum! So we weren't hungry for dinner.) Don't you think that after that day's worth of food, I should be thinner, or at least not so freaking mad?!?

Doesn't my scale understand that throwing me a little bone would go a long way in psychological terms?!? Would it hurt the little effer to just knock a half pound off the total now and then?!? Just once in a while?!?

M, if not the scale, is supportive: he'll tell me the weight has at least left my third chin, or that my upper arms are less swingy. These are the little tidbits I live for--a glimmer of hope among the Oreos and sweet tea vodkas.