Weight Loss Wednesday -- Of Tortoise-paced Scales and Half Burritos

I like slow summers.  I like slow mornings.  I like slow-cooked pot roast and slow-moving molasses.  I do not like slow scales.  I like fast scales.  I have not cheated once -- not once -- on my diet, and I have exercised in the pool, lifted weights, danced with dumbells, and ridden my bike in the cool of the evening.  If I stand gingerly on the scales, shifting my weight to my heels and pushing my toes toward the sides of the contraption, I lost one whopping pound this week.  Even so, I feel triumphant.  I walked into a Qdoba Mexican Grill and walked out having eaten only one half of a burrito.  Even typing this now, it seems impossible, but it's true.  I cut my burrito in half before I even started eating.   I knew if I started munching on one end of that burrito, I would make my way through the whole thing before I knew what happened, so I separated my lovely 440 calories ahead of time and packed the rest for leftovers. I chewed each bite of that half-burrito until it could be chewed no longer.  I savored each grain of rice and every tiny chunk of pico.  I left the restaurant victorious.  Now if only someone would let the scales know . . .

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