The trouble with scale bobbles* (official weekly weigh-in today has me up .5 from last week) is this: no matter how much non-scale-related progress I make (15 military pushups in my first set; 4 in the second), any uptick on the scale feels like my boss telling me that even though I've re doing everything right she's not gonna pay me this week. No wait. It's even worse. It's like she's making me pay her to work.
I think it might be time to get a second job. And in this grossly extended metaphor, a job is extra cardio. And here I thought a daily walk and circuit training would be enough. Silly Cathy! Let me start small. Sometime in the next week I'll find time to jog twice. Which will be an adventure given that I'm working seven of the next seven days. And trying to eke out time to revise my book. As my dad famously said during a family vacation after we'd been lost in Washington DC traffic patterns for hours: Balls! Balls! Balls!
Here's what I'm thinking: If I'm adding running back on top of everything else, I figure I've punished myself long enough for sending my ipod shuffle through the wash. I may have drowned all the single ladies, but I'm just one snazzy purple nano away from bringing them back to life. I hear the new ones have built-in pedometers and everything! This is me putting my hands up! Up! Don't pay me any attention! Oh! Oh! Oh!
Yup. I lied about not talking about the scale. Deal.
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