One more pound gone. Hi-YA! Fat-fu, that's what this is. One more pound and I'll pass five percent of my body weight in the "lost" category (so, you can do the math for about what I started at).
I'm surprised I lost any at all. I weigh in on Mondays, Jason's dad was here until Thursday, which means I ate out no fewer than four times last week. Actually, five, because Jason and I ate out Friday night. Must crack whip on self! At least I left every place (except Red Robin) with a box filled with half my meal.
Speaking of take-out boxes, the waitress we had at the Olive Garden a couple weeks ago pissed me off. I got manicotti. I don't much care for the tomato sauce, but I figured it was better for me than what I usually do (replace it with alfredo sauce), so I just scraped in off when I got my food. I finish my half of the meal, and the waitress asks if I need a box. I say yes, so she brings one. And then proceeds to scrape my entire plate, including the tomato sauce I had obviously scraped off, into the box. So I was back to where I started. Le sigh.