Can someone please explain...

How I could have gained eight pounds since this little experiment began? Even assuming the three scales I've been weighed on might all measure as if they are on different planets with wildly different atmospheres, I've weighed in at least three times at Curves, and have seen a steady progression of a couple of pounds per weigh in. IN THE WRONG DIRECTION, PEOPLE.

Yet still, the inches fall away. And obviously, that's what the smart money's staked on, but truly, am I doing something wrong? Could I honestly have gained EIGHT POUNDS OF MUSCLE? And lost exactly no fat, though? I mean, I'm no fancy scientist or nuthin', but that just does not compute.

Anyhow, I FEEL different. Smaller, yes. At last I know the "skinny feeling" I've read so much about. I definitely have it. And I like it. I plan on having it lots more. Like, every day for the rest of forever. So there's that. But then there's also the astonishing way in which I've been conducting myself. I'm not going to tell you Thanksgiving wasn't a giant challenge stuffed with delicious stuffing. It was. But I made it through in a mostly mindful way. Except that there were mini eggrolls. And about those, the less said the better.

But take today, just as a for instance. This afternoon found me craving something -- anything -- made of bread. I settled in my mind on a toasted bagel with thin slices of cheddar from the deli downstairs. I knew I should just get some of their great fresh fruit, but the bagel was singing in that sweet siren voice toasted bagels have (funny. I never thought I was that committed to bagels. Apparently absence DOES make the heart grow fonder. Imagine). Anyhow. Down I went. Got the fresh fruit, eyed up the salad bar, thought yeah, ok, salad. Looked over to the bagel station, and wouldn't you know, the deli part was closed anyhow. No bagels to be had for me or anyone. Thank you, universe, for that. So fruit and salad it was. And, not surprisingly, it was utterly, utterly satisfying.

Then, tonight. Went to meet up with The Neck. Haven't seen him in easily a year, maybe two. We went for Thai food. We were talking and not looking at the menu, and I impulse ordered a beer and a plate of pad Thai, no peanuts. It came, the beer was cold and delicious and I drank it happily. The noodles were only whatever, and as I ate I actually realised I was getting full, and so I just stopped. Just put my chopsticks down and stopped. So easy. Then, at the booklaunch, there were trays and trays of appealing looking snacks going around. Coconut shrimp, and chicken satay, and springrolls. And I said no to every tray. Not because I'm being good, but simply because I'm being mindful, and I'd just eaten, and I wasn't hungry. Now, that wouldn't have stopped me six weeks ago. I'd have found room, somewhere, crammed them in. I would have felt a quiet frenzy, a drive to try them all. Twice.

But tonight? Nope, just not interested. Thanks, though.

This is easily the hardest goddamn thing I've ever done. After this, the second draft of the novel will be an afternoon's entertainment.

I say bring it on. And about time, too.