So I went to my meeting this morning, and as I suspected, I dropped a bit: lost 3.8 pounds, or as photoblogger Drew McDermott put it when he posted this photo back in 2008: "3.8 pounds of Russian Literature. Fuckin' thick book."
I think he was actually reading it, not dropping proportionate bits of it from his body. But both are to be celebrated, and hopefully I'll get around to reading it one day, too.
Anyway, 3.8 pounds is nearly two puppies that have found a good home away from my belly. So that's somethin'. Altogether, I'm 6.2 pounds down since I started this fistfight with my own mortality. Lunches were the key this week, I think, choosing udon and sushi over sandwiches, for the most part.
Plus: I'll be riding my bike in the Five Boro Tour on May 6... which means I'll have to be riding it for long distances a lot sooner than that, because that damn ride is 40 miles long and part of it is going up the Verrazanno Bridge. Never mind that part of it is riding down the bridge, part of it is riding up that big ol' hump. But hey, that's what the Humpty Dance is all about, huh? It's your chance to do the hump.
And with that horrible moment of word-association, I bid you a fond adieu.