If anyone knows anything about me, it's that I'm neurotic as hell about my weight. I weigh myself every morning and most nights. I have two official weigh in days (one is my normal official weigh in day and the other is for a contest I'm involved in.) When my weight jumps up, I get freaked out like the freak I am. Well, this weekend I over indulged in deliciousness (including two nights of ice cream) while Eric and Brett were here visiting. I ate a little better than I usually do and I'm paying the price. Saturday morning before they arrived, I was at 191.6 lbs. After Saturday's damage, I was up to 195.6 and after Sunday's damage (only half of which I can blame on them, dammit, since they hit the road around 1 o'clock) I topped out at 197.9. That's the biggest number I've seen in a really, really long time. And for some reason, I'm fine with it. I'm not happy with it, but I'm not beating myself up in my usual manner. The ice cream was so damn good and well worth it. I know after a couple days the pounds will drop off again (just in time for my next set of house guests this weekend.) I've noticed that it takes two days for whatever I eat to make it's way through me. If I have a sundae on Sunday, I know that both Monday and Tuesday will reflect it on the scale. Wednesday I'll start showing signs of improvement.
So here's a word of warning. If you want to have a certain couple of Southern Boys as house guests, be prepared to watch your weight do this. :-)