I tempted fate...

There are all sorts of great ways to kick off the weekend:

• Breakfast in Bed...
• Something else in bed...
• Coffee by the fire...
• A great run...
• A Snuggie and your favorite Christmas movie..

But today, I decided to kick off the weekend by paying a visit to StS. For those of you new to my blog, StS is Satan the Scale. Think of it as a visit to the gyno, or the dentist, or the tax collector, basically hell....more or less.
So, off to the guest bath I go. (because StS doesn't really live with us, he's just a guest...and an unwelcome one at that) I suspected I knew what StS would say, we've had this conversation before, many...many...times, but it was my form of confession, so I walked the long dark hallway, wearing nothing but my boots....no wait...everything but my boots (because all good fluffy women know that boots weigh like 10 lbs and clearly we don't want to have to break out the defibrillator on a bright Saturday morning) I slowly...stealthily approach him....and gently stepped on (because all good fluffy women know that if you step on "gently", it will clearly register a smaller number. Sucking in also helps).
Holy Guacamole!! I'm down...like...down below one of "THOSE" numbers. The ones on the scale that years ago you thought you'd NEVER see.... between the cleavage of your boobs as you look down trying desperately to find your feet. Keep in mind...I am fully dressed. So, what does every fully dressed fluffy woman do after she's stepped on the scale....
I strip.
Holy Sh*t - I'm even lower than that!!! OK - so not like, "let's go out and buy a bikini" low or "let's stand naked in front of a mirror" low or even "let's tell people what *the number* is" low. But it is "Thank you God, I never have to put that number down again before taking a helicopter tour so the pilot can "balance the load" low.

Dear TrekDesk....I still love you.

Laura