Goosed!

So I managed to make it to a weigh-in (if not a meeting) the night before leaving for Las Vegas, and, despite completely dropping the ball, program-wise, last week, I logged in a weight 1.2 pounds less than the week before. And, as any schoolchild knows, 1.2 pounds is roughly the weight of an enamel sign of a goose stealing a bar of soap from a lovely señora (who might be planning to eat it).

Of course, I'm in Vegas now, and that means steak and drinks and drinks and drinks and steak. So really, this just establishes a baseline for my inevitable decline.

Other weight news -- I washed my new jeans for the first time, and put them on again, and they seemed to be a little more snug (but not too much, thank god). But for once, I could say with certainty that they shrank -- I'd just lost a soap-stealing goose, for chrissakes, so It Ain't Me, It's the Jeans.

Rob