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I should probably explain that I am seriously conflicted about the alternating feelings I have between wanting to scream to the world “OMG, I LOST 10 LBS!” (hey, see what I did there?) and understanding that the urge to do that is mired in patriarchal and fat shaming baggage.

I think I need to go back and read this essay without my snark-goggles.


Yoga tonight, finally, then dinner at the Melting Pot.

Also, I’ve been having crazy intense fruit cravings all week long. I’ve completely ignored ice cream at least three times this week, but put a pineapple in front of me and it’ll disappear.  I went to an Italian/salad bar place for lunch today solely because I knew they tend to have a really nice fruit selection and loaded up on mango and papaya.  If I could have more, I totally would, but I have no urge to go hunting down some other sort of snack. 

Weird that.

The world in which I’m supposed to feel bad for making Toll House cookies with my 5 year old on a snow day (and eating almost as much dough as we bake) is not a world I want to live in.