WWI: Much to celebrate, weight #s not among it

223.6. 45.9% fat. Up 2.8 from last week. This should bum me out, but it doesn't. I'm still too giddy from those pants I tried on yesterday -- I'm wearing them now. Please, no comments about "well, Old Navy runs large" because that's not the point. It’s a net loss from when I bought them. When I bought them two months ago they didn't fit. Now they do.

Also:

• I'm up 2.8 from last week, but I'm down point 2 for the month. This was depressing (I'm 6.8 behind goal pace of 1 pound per week over the year, but I can make this up over the next few months) but I analyzed some data. I historically (yes, I've been keeping a spreadsheet since postpartum with Stella) either spike up or remain the same during March of every year except the year I was pregnant with Sammy. I think March in general is a bad time to be watching one's weight. The buzz from the new year resolve has faded, the Girl Scout cookies came, the indoor workout is getting monotonous.
  
• This month in particular was a highly stressful one for me. First I was sick, and, despite there being no dextromethorphan listed among the ingredients in Stouffer's Cheesy Enchladas or Girl Scout Carmel Delights, I ate many of them in an attempt to soothe that annoying bronchial cough. Then, when I could take a deep breath without the aid of albuterol, I had all this stressful crap going down at work (Bitter legacy vendor making our switch to a new data system resemble an electronic case of severe constipation) and, as journaled here, I reached for comfort food but at least I stopped myself. There were days I was so stressed out I couldn't work out, because as loud as I could turn up Shawn Lee's Ping Pong Orchestra on the iPod, I could still hear that annoying legacy vendor in my head basically saying "Oh, you want that simple CSV data dump BEFORE our contract expires? Oh, we'll have to put our best guys on overtime and double the cost…" and I had to get off the ellipitical machine before my head exploded in a bloody mess that would have been too nasty a media circus for the YMCA of Greater Milwaukee to handle. Oh, how that vendor pissed me off! I call him as I get his ridiculous proposal and he answers the phone: "Oh, hi, Veronica, how are you?" like he was a friend of mine that I hadn't talked to in months and was inviting out for a skim latte at Alterra after work to catch up. God, how I wanted to reply: "First off, dickslap, that's Ms. Rusnak to you. Second, cut the crap with the phony altruistic concern about my health and let's talk about this preposterous proposal for a simple CSV data dump that somebody who just watched the Video Professor's Microsoft Access Training Course could have done. Overtime my dupah." But nooooooooo, I had to remain professional and businesslike: "I'm fine, thank you. Yourself? Glad to hear it. Hey, I have some questions about your recent email, do you have a moment?" Anyway, there were worse ways I could have handled this stress, like gaining 10 pounds. Didn't happen. And those pants fit!
  
• I also learned this month that I'm not missing anything by making my morning lattes Skim lattes. Turns out that Alterra doesn't use whole milk in their regular lattes, they use 2%. That explains the very little difference in a taste test. But if they don't have whole milk, how do they get the milk to froth on their cappucinos? This is exactly why I get latte instead of cappucino. If you're going to have cappucino, you want a major froth on it, and you can only get that with the fat that whole milk provides. Whatever. My diet treat isn't really "diet"! Or, at least, not noticibly different from "regular."
  
• My measurements are the lowest they've ever been since I started taking them postpartum Sammy.
  
• My fat percentage is the lowest its ever been since I bought that fat measuring scale.
  

Sometimes you have to look other places besides the scale to measure success. But it's still there, corncob that it is, waiting for some high-fiber relief. I'm off to get a bowl of bran flakes.