I stepped on the scale today expecting full well to see something in the neighborhood of 195. I discovered a while ago that whatever I eat on Friday shows up on the scale on Sunday morning. This Friday I had pizza and cake at work and then went out to dinner, even though I wasn't all that hungry. That being said, I was 192.2 lbs. I didn't believe it, so I weighed myself again and got the same result. It's a new record and puts me that much closer to 190. The way I feel right now, I'm sure I'm 210 lbs. Ken and I stopped for lunch today and I got the greasiest fish & chips I've had in a while. It's 7 o'clock and I'm still feeling full from it. I'm dreading seeing the damage on Tuesday morning.
I'm doing much better from yesterday. The cancer that was in my house is now back in New Hampshire. You know, he may be 20 years old now, but he still behaves like he's 12, which is an improvement, believe me, but still. I have no room in my life for a fucking little asshat like Ken's nephew and Ken knows it. If he didn't know the full extent of it before, he knows it now. He's still welcome to have the immature piece of shit come visit if he wants, but he needs to know I want zero involvement with him ever again. ZERO. This most recent visit more than did it for me.