Whoomp, there it is.

Well, it was bound to happen, and it did. I had a gain this week, albeit tiny. I'm up two-tenths of a pound. Or, let's say one-fifth and reduce the fraction.

And friends, the fraction is the only thing this week that reduced.

I'm honestly devastated, and I don't really have any reason to be - I'm still down 17.8 pounds in nine weeks. That's... great. Until you ask about my male friends and their ever shrinking selves. We're at least amusing ourselves with plots of sabotage.

But I'm down about it.

I came home, ate a reasonable dinner - leftover red beans, hold the rice.


Now for a little FF pudding, and tomorrow is another day.

This week, no Pop Chips, lower salt and less whining.

Although, whining probably burns calories.

Friday, one of my favorite colleagues, Susan, is leaving the company. She's a strong, smart woman, and the company will be less without her. She's the person who recommended my new awesome salon. Great haircuts, less nonsense and $15 cheaper.

But the word on the street is that they're having cake for her. Ohhh, cake. Cake how I miss you. I'll resist, because I can and because I have to.

And that should be my biggest challenge of the week, really.

I know I shouldn't beat myself up, but I keep wondering if I could have had a different outcome...

If I'd purged, or eaten newspaper, or something.

Whatever. This is a new way of living, and not every week can be a four pound loss.

And just think what would have happened if I'd caved on pizza, cake, beer and bar food.

Of course, a small sick part of me thinks - maybe I didn't eat enough.