The Bad News Is

Despite my best workout efforts, the number on the scale keeps creeping upward.

I will need to get my cereal for my late nights, after all.

I will need to increase my workouts. Somehow.

And of course, I will need to decrease my food intake.

I can’t imagine that I can’t do that. Look at all the things I have done in the last few weeks: my closet, the stairs, the kitchen, the bathroom, Aislyn’s room, the entryway, biking, working. The only thing I really haven’t done is the upstairs bathroom and bedrooms, and the bedrooms would be a project and a half for anyone.

I tried to redo our bedroom a couple of springs ago, but for some reason or another my efforts fizzled out. Probably too big of a project. Too much stuff in there. It’s like a catch all for…well, everything.

It’s too bad, too. It’s a big, beautiful room.

I have to remember where I’ve come from and what I’m up against. I have to be realistic without making excuses for myself. Maybe I can’t follow the plan to the letter, but there’s no reason why I would need to gorge nightly, either.

Maybe it’s good that I’m not gaining more weight than I am, and that I’m biking again, and building up my strength on the bike. Not maybe. All of those things are good things.

I’m trying to finish this post so I can give my daughter my full attention. We’re having a slumover party in her room before my workshop. I can’t concentrate to come to a good conclusion, though. I’m just going to have to stop abruptly here.

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