Seven pounds

I am ignoring you, delicious looking chocolate cake. Yes, I know you are less than 15 feet away, so close my left arm tingles with the held-back energy as I resist reaching out for you. My eyes are focused on the convener of the meeting, but ever so often, I find that suddenly, there you are, floating tantalizingly before me. I stick a piece of sugar-free (but sweet) bubble gum in my mouth, which is supposed to help me ignore you, but it doesn't. I still want you, chocolate cake.

Why do I struggle to resist your charms, you ask? Because of 7 pounds.

Seven pounds I wish would disappear. Seven pounds that are welded on to my bellyhipsthighsbutt. That's not a huge amount of weight, I know.

Five years ago, when I started this "healthy living", when the number on the scale screamed out OVERWEIGHT and I battled to make exercising and eating better my new normal, I had a number in mind.

125

That's the weight I want to be. I've been there - actually, for two years I was way below that number (but that was too thin) - but slowly in the past year and half, I've crept upward.

My one saving grace is running. Without running, my love for chocolate cake - and food in general - would have me well past 160 pounds, as I was 5 years ago. Running - and the occasional salad and missed cookie - keeps me at the curvaceous weight of 132. On the days I run, it is much easier to ignore the ridonkulously delicious peanut-butter-and-chocolate donuts from our local bakery (or, at least, only have 1 instead of 3 or 4).

Now, I know these 7 pounds aren't horrible. Glenn likes my curviness. And with these extra few pounds, I can once again wear my favoritest skirt ever, the greeny one with the cool flower appliques.

Since I can't seem to get rid of my love for beer & buffalo wings, chocolate and strawberry pie, and second helpings, I'm trying to make peace with 7 pounds. But ONLY seven pounds...