The other day I hopped on the scale and found I'd lost seven pounds.
I did the happy dance right in the middle of Publix (and promptly embarrassed my husband, again). Seven pounds, I thought. Holy Hell!
And to be truthful, ever since that day my hunger has been in overdrive.
And now I'm thinking, WTF?
It's like my body is trying to replace those pounds I lost and here I am, helpless to stop it.
Orange sorbet ice cream, you're mine. Spice cakes with caramel apples, you're no match for me.
I shouldn't be doing this. I should be rejoicing and vowing to get the scale to go even lower!!
Is this that karma thing I'm always making fun of? Or maybe it's life's way of telling me I'm doomed to be fatter than I'd like?
Hmmmmm... I think I hear some cookies calling my name.
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