Clueless

Lawrence Toppman: So I weighed myself today for the first time in almost three weeks, doing that balancing thing where you try to be enough on the scale to satisfy your conscience but hang off a little in hopes that a pound or two won't be counted. (Does that even work?) And I weighed exactly 181 pounds, the lowest on this quest and just 1.5 pounds from my original goal.



Then I did that other kind of weighing, where you clomp on the scale confidently and lead-footedly and confirm the first reading with a light heart. It fuddled around 182 for a while but decided 181 had been correct after all.

But why? I'm exercising steadily but not maniacally. I'm eating rationally but remembering to go downstairs before bed for a consolatory cookie or two. My happy Monday baffles me as much as all the Mondays where I weighed MORE than I thought I would and got cranky.

My mom used to tell me not to look gift horses in the mouths. But gift horses also have a way of throwing you once you think you're comfortable in the saddle, so I'm not cocky. I could just as easily turn into a puffer fish on short notice.