gains and losses

My wedding dress came in this week. I went to the shop and tried it on Tuesday night. And ... ugh. Maybe going with the size that was a bit smaller than me was a bad idea. (I was between sizes. Had to go a bit down, or a bit up.)

"This will be fine!" the dress lady chortled encouragingly. "You can lose five pounds between now and then, and it will still fit!" I'll say it would. And my shoulder blades might not even touch each other. And wedding guests might not be whispering to each other, trying to sort out whether the small spare tire around my middle is fat, or baby No. 2.

Ugh.

So -- nine weeks to go. No problem, right? You could practically sneeze off five pounds. Sure. Yeah.

Yesterday, despite extreme hunger (I ate breakfast and lunch; whatup with that?) I didn't snack at all, and then last night, I worked out -- that's a good start! When I got home, our favorite neighbor had stopped by, with fresh veggie goodies from her garden -- also good -- and HOMEMADE BLUEBERRY MUFFIN CAKE. With sugar on top. Verrry tasty!

Then, today, at work -- a place of great peril for diet-busting -- the national press building is giving away FREE ICE CREAM. I'm racking my brain to think of something that would be more tempting. Perhaps this, but not much else. And you would not believe the variety. Strawberry shortcake ice cream? Or chocolate-coated vanilla ice cream, with a chocolate core? Or, an old favorite, ice-cream sandwich. No drumsticks that I noticed, fortunately.

I managed to resist, but I fully expect to find my car full of Starburst, or that this is the one day of the year that the day care offers free samples of our dessert fundraiser. Just you wait.

Naturally, if I had one iota of self-control, none of this would matter. I would reign supreme over the tasty, tasty, sweet temptations, laughing at their pathetic attempts to ensnare me! My strength would overcome! I WOULD HAVE THE POWER!

But I so don't. No power. Of the will variety, anyway. And Matt doesn't help. He says he'll help, but when I fail to eat three massive slabs of chicken breast, he says, "You're not starving yourself, are you?" What a great Italian mother he would make.

I promise not to care any more, once the wedding is past. This is THE LAST TIME I will care. From a vanity perspective, anyway.