NaBloPoMo 30: 16 Pounds; What Do You Get?

OK, I found the little card they fill out every time I get weighed at Weight Watchers, and the official, not-making-it-up-in-my-head number is 176.8.

This depresses me a little. I was so thrilled to get under 175. (OK, all you thin people can roll your eyes. You don't know what I'm talking about until you've been fatter than a whale omelet, 'K?)

But hey! It's OK, because may I remind you (on this, the last stop on our mutual NaBloPoMo journey) that achieving fitness is a process? And that I can get below 175 again? Probably by next week? (Or maybe the week after.)

To prove it, let me remind you of where I've gotten so far:

1. If you ever meet me IRL and admire my engagement or wedding rings, feel free to ask to try them on. They will actually come off my fingers now. A few months ago, this was not the case.

2. I went to the gym this morning. I had a ton of appointments, so I could only work out for 35 minutes. Not only did I jog/run/move my ass on the treadmill for 35 minutes, some of that time was going 5.5 miles an hour. And I was listening to an audiobook at the time. Not the "Workout" playlist that only a couple of months ago, I relied on to keep my ass moving. (This is the one with Madonna's "Express Yourself," George Michael's "I Want Your Sex," The Rolling Stones "Bitch," The Who's "Baba O'Reilly" and a heaping helping of other proofs that I am middle-aged and out of it.)

3. A friend of mine treated me to lunch at the Zodiac Room at Neiman Marcus today. I totally ignored the popovers and strawberry butter. Also, I ate salad for lunch and drank Diet Pepsi. And did not have dessert. And didn't mind at all.

4. My size 16 blue jeans, the ones I bought at the Brooks Brothers outlet in Kittery, are in a bag to bring to the thrift shop.

5. The new bras I bought to kick off the whole diet process are starting to get loose.

6. So are the size 14 jeans I bought at Target.

7. My mother thinks I look terrific. So does my mother-in-law. So does my husband.

8. A ton of old clothes that were too tight now fit.

9. My husband is getting a lot more grabby.

10. I actually believe I can do this. Not just lose another 30 pounds--take part in that sprint Triathlon I signed up for.

And so, with NaBloPoMo finally over, the sun setting in the west, and a Friday evening glass of wine calling my name, I leave you this, from Fussypants: