I'll admit it: I'm a fridge lurker. Even though I live alone and am perfectly aware of my grocery purchases, every few hours I saunter towards the fridge and stand, entranced by the yellowy, chilly glow...as if somehow within the past two hours a chocolate-chocolate cake has appeared. YES. A chocolate-chocolate cake.
Now, I realize this sounds ludicrous, but at 9pm on a Friday night, it seems plausible.
I'd comfortably fallen into my new lower weight and bi-hourly dates with my icebox, that foxy thing, until I had dinner with an old friend last week. We sat, catching up and discovering that we were close in weight--both hovering just above a goal we'd wanted to reach for some time. Although we live thousands of miles apart, we excitedly committed to being each other's accountability partners...e-mailing nightly to list our food choices, exercise efforts and weekly, a weight update.
In nine weeks, I'll see my friend again...and more than anything I want to hit that blessed one thirty-five. Originally, I began nearly 60 pounds away from my goal weight. (Do the math, but it's not pretty!) And today, here I sit just 14 pounds away.
So, as tough as it was, I had to break up with my icebox. And, lest I revert to my hot late-night dates with him, I crafted this framed numerical reminder, and hung it right at eye level...