Keep moving on.

So today, I weighed myself for the first time.

I don't know what I expected to happen when I got on that scale.

Maybe I thought the world would implode.

Lo and behold, it didn't. I had worked up to this and worked up to this and in a single moment, I stepped on the scale... and...

I lost four pounds.

Hmm... I can't really be upset about that. After all, at least it's SOMETHING. And it's what is considered "normal". It's not what I expected. I had wanted a little more.

What IS that thing that happens, anyway, when a woman steps on the scale? Ladies know what I'm talking about. If we've lost as much as we want, (and we usually don't have a specific number, just whatever's "enough"), we celebrate. How? Usually by eating! If we haven't lost what's "enough", we always have that fleeting moment of "I'm not eating for the next three days... no, two days... no, just today... no, just lunch..."

At least that's how it goes in my head.

But I kept going today. I ate what was on my plan, and tomorrow I'll be back in the gym working my butt off (literally, hopefully). Because this journey is still just starting.

And four pounds is the best start I can think of to a new reality.