The weight loss ticker is stuck at 220 because the scale is, too. I fear I may have had major surgery in order to lose 30 pounds.
I was warned about this. The doctor calls it a "plateau". What he didn't warn me about is the toll this 2-week scale stall would have on my psyche.
LT and I spent last weekend in Provincetown celebrating our 5-year anniversary. There's not much to do in P-town in February except eat out and shop. Eating out is considerably less pleasurable when you can't really eat anything. It's even less pleasurable to be finished eating, feeling like I might explode, and having the waiter send the chef-owner to the table to find out if the food was okay and if he could make me something else, because my plate had been full when it came back to the kitchen. I tried my best not to tear up as I explained that the 1 and a half grilled scallops I had eaten were wonderful- beautifully seared on the outside and just warmed through on the inside- but that I really was full, and thank you so much for being concerned and coming to investigate. I really wanted to eat more. I really wanted to eat all 3 of the scallops and the gorgeously-dressed greens they came with and the delicious-smelling warm sourdough bread, and maybe the calamari and mussels that the guys at the next table had, and one of those yummy-sounding $12 martinis on the drink menu, and could I see the dessert menu, please... All of this, plus the "plateau" I'm in has combined to make me feel sad and regretful.
P'town was otherwise nice (we stayed here, in this room). We drove out in what can only be described as a "wintry mix", so the normally 2-hour trip took about 3 and a half hours. By the next morning, everything was frozen over and completely trecherous. Still, I managed to step into a puddle and soak my jeans from the knees down. When we got back to our room, LT kindly hung them up in front of the fireplace to dry, and then we took a nap. We awoke to the smell of something burning and managed to toss the smoking pants into the bathtub and turn on the shower before the flames got too big. That, and my purchase of These Cowboy Boots, was the highlight of the weekend.
I think they'll look nice with my new fire-distressed jeans, don't you?