The month before Christmas I lost ten pounds.  “Lost” is a strange word to use.  It doesn’t really describe the process.  Shoved away makes more sense.  Stomped, fought, starved, anything but lost.  I didn’t misplace it with hopes of finding it later.  It didn’t get pushed to the back of a drawer or dropped behind my nightstand.  I won’t be taking out an ad in the paper or passing out flyers, hoping someone will return it.

I have hit a plateau and can’t seem to break past it.  I was depressed about it yesterday.  Maybe depressed isn’t the correct word.  Frustrated comes closer. This morning I woke up thinking about dieting this time of year.  I realized that instead of hitting a plateau I have just managed to maintain the status quo through the Christmas holidays.  When you think about it in those terms it sounds much better.  I did sample a few goodies so I didn’t feel totally deprived.  I did not gain the weight I lost back, so this is really a letter of encouragement to myself.

This is NOT a resolution.  Knowing myself, I have to hide any kind of formal committment from myself – close my eyes, hide my head under my pillow, whistle in the dark – whatever you want to call it.  I will stick my fingers in my ears and sing lalala, I’m not really doing anything significant here – nope not me.

Here’s to jumping off the plateau.  No more holiday goodies hanging around as I “shed” pounds.  There’s another silly phrase.  Like a tree sheds it’s leaves, a gentle breeze blows and the pounds just drift away.

That last sentence sounded a lot better in my head in my best sarcastic voice.  Has all this made me a bit grouchy?

Yes.