I step on the scale this morning... it reads exactly to the tenth of a pound what it did last week.  I stand in the bathroom and punch the sheet rock on the wall.  I come out of the bathroom with a giant pout on my face, and complain to my husband about the unfairness of it all.  He tells me maybe I need to start exercising again.  I yell that he doesn't understand, and ask him when he expects me to exercise, 3 am?  I grab my apple cinnamon Chobani yogurt and head towards Starbucks. 

There is at least 10 people in front of me in line... one of which decides that she apparently needs 6 different drinks.  Ugh!  While waiting (forever) for my coffee, I bring up Twitter on my phone to waste away the time.  I send this tweet:

You can tell, the day wasn't off to the best start.
I get to work, sit down at my desk and get lost in a mundane task that needs to be completed.  I drink my coffee.  I don't eat my yogurt.  I guess I figure if I starve myself this morning, maybe it will make all the difference.

After a while my cell phone rings.  It is a call I've been waiting for for a couple of days - a renowned doctor in North Carolina that would like have my daughter join a Turner Syndrome study she has been conducting.  We chat, the conversation is nice.  I ask lots of questions.  I tell her Lily has Turner Syndrome, I tell her about the non-longer mysterious growth on the back of her head.  We chat about the various pictures that various doctors have snapped of it on their cell phones.  I tell her about my previous pregnancy, about the HELLP syndrome.  She pauses, I can tell she is struck by the fact that 2 totally random things have hit me twice.  She tells me she doesn't know which one is worse.  I take a moment to feel bad for myself, but then slink back to my desk and actual revel in the news the call brought.

11:30 rolls around... time to leave for Weight Watchers.  I drive to my meeting, and walk through the door and to the scale.  Several people say "hi Sarah".  I stop and show the receptionist a picture of my daughter and son.  I feel like I'm walking the walk of shame, and yet I should have nothing to be ashamed of, because from a health standpoint I did everything I should have.  I drank lots of water, ate my share of fruits and veggies, and stayed within my points.  I tried to move a little every day, even if it is just walking around my car while I wait for the gas to pump, or doing squats every time the microwave is running to heat Lily's bottle.

I start the disrobing process - its like a weekly ritual... coat off, scarf and gloves off, blazer off, boots off.  I stand in my dress and tights now on the scale and grit my teeth.  I automatically blurt out, "I know I didn't lose anything and I can't figure out why!"  My CWWL looks up and me and states, "Maybe you should save that comment for a time when you really didn't lose weight."  A look of shock crosses my face, I stare down at the paper I see:

- 1.2

I quietly smile, and back away from the scale.  I don't know how it happened between this morning and noon.  My scale ALWAYS matches Weight Watcher's scale really closely. I don't know how it happened, and honestly I don't care.  I will take it!

Next week I hope to make to my first 5 lbs lost.

Don't forget... tomorrow's the LAST DAY to enter my Zipfizz giveaway.  There will be 2 winners, so definitely check it out, all you have to do for an entry is leave me a comment on the giveaway post with what flavor you want to try.