Phew!

This past holiday season I did more baking than in any three previous years combined.  More importantly, I've done more eating of said baked goods than normal.  (But, dude, chocolate chip macaroons?  Easy, fast and delicious before and after baking.)

So it was no surprise when I gained five pounds.

After enjoying myself through New Year's, I put the brakes on and began making some healthier choices.  Lost a couple pounds right away.

A week ago I weighed myself for the first time in maybe 10 days.  I was stunned, shocked and concerned to see that I had gained about 13 pounds.

Thirteen pounds.  In 10 days.

I'll just admit that the idea of a tumor popped right up.  But let's be honest, that's kind of my first response to everything.  Missed my period right after Tom and I agreed we weren't having kids together?  Gotta be a tumor!

If the brakes had been put on before, the keys were now removed.

And I gained two more pounds by yesterday.

I mentioned the situation to Tom and Nance, but lightly, like, "Haha, no reason to be frightened, I know what I'd been eating.  I guess it just took a minute to catch up to me."

I started an exercise routine last night that kicked my butt.

Today?  Gained another pound.

Concerned?  Shocked?  Stressed?  Oh yeah.

Then this fantastic little kid of mine who can't seem to get passed the 23 pound mark stepped on the scale.  She weighed 40 pounds.  And her sister, who was very recently right on the cusp of 40 pounds?  Try 56.

Fucking stupid digital scale.  I'll get new batteries this weekend.

I weighed myself at my dad's house this morning.  In full clothes, including jeans.  After breakfast.  On the first day of my period.  And I needed to use the restroom (every ounce counts, people!).  And I was still 15 pounds less than I had been only 90 minutes earlier at my home, naked.

I haven't gained weight.  In fact, in three days I can pretty much guarantee that I'll lose three to five pounds, which will put me right back to my pre-holiday number.

Came home tonight and stuck with my exercise plan, because it is still needed.  No longer secretly wondering if I'm going to die.  Openly feeling kind of stupid because now that the moment has passed, I am forced to recognize that my clothes still fit the same and that the scale had been kind of wonky lately.

Whatever.