Another week gone already! It's #5.

I did not want to weigh in this morning. I had a shameful eating week. I ate barely any vegetables and tons of sugar.

You can imagine that I was quite surprised when I got on the scale at the posh club weight loss contest, ready to plead PMS and last night's salty friend rice and see that I somehow magically lost a pound. How that happened? I can only think it is because I am getting so buff that my new muscles are sucking up all that sugar I am sucking down. Imagine if I didn't eat all that sugar and my muscles used some serious fat instead. I think I'd be melting. A couple of the people in the contest are melting. I'm jealous. And I really do think I'll win the lottery every time I buy a ticket.

My new new undead therapist was weird this week. He tried to be confrontational and tell me that maybe it was time to just quit whining and accept the excess weight. I was like, well Mr. double not dead , it's not completely vanity over here, it's a health issue. (Shopping in the regular size ladies section is just the cherry on top.)

I think that the undead noticed that I was about to cry out of anger and frustration and he did a little back paddling as I walked out the door which makes me think he was trying to use some kind of reverse psychology on me. Reverse psychology doesn't work on me. I'm more likely to replace the undead with an even newer more understanding therapist than I am to do what I need to do in defiance of his suggestion to compromise my health and well being.

I haven't cleaned a thing that needs to be cleaned. By cleaning I really mean sorted with 99% of it given away, but I hate "cleaning" (aka: tossing) so it's the last thing on my list. That is if it is even on my list at all. I'm not sure cleaning is on the list.

In summary, of the three goals I made I succeeded in one. I exercised like a pro, but didn't clean out any of our mountains of crap or manage to eat minimal carbs.