Vaca from the Scale - Part 1

Last Weigh in: 107
I've had quite a few things I've wanted to blog about...

• my clandestine adventures stealing measuring tapes to measure my waist (23" WHY DON'T I LOOK LIKE VICTORIA BECKHAM!?)
• the fortune in my cookie the other day: "Remember, it's the journey not the destination that counts" (Don't worry, I didn't eat the cookie)
• my attempt to eat "normally" around everyone while I'm away from the scale, and home, and safe foods (aka baby food, frozen veggies, and rice cereal) and my failure to be OK with it
• super secret adventures purchasing Wasted while on an outing with friends... it basically went like this "OH oh, you all go on ahead, I want to use the bathroom in Barnes and Nobles and then I'll catch up with you guys in line for the movies!" Sad sack.
• My paranoia at keeping said book hidden from the world. I've got Darkly Dreaming Dexter on top of it in my luggage as a thinly veiled attempt to hide it for now. Will wrap it in some sort of shirt later.
  
• Then the usu. You know... the pinching, prodding. Mirrors, reflections, second glances at myself.
  
• I'm trying to run around and lift as many heavy things (we're moving things out of storage) as possible. "No no, don't help me, it's easier if I do it by myself!!!" Burn calories burn calories.
  

Last week, I was kind of freaked out by 107. Now that I have no idea what I weigh, I'm thinking "I better damn well be 105 or I'll absolutely die."

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In the storage unit, there was a freight elevator I passed by.

Minimum Weight 100 pounds

Part of me at that point wanted to weigh 98 pounds just so the manager could say, "Hold on, you're too small to ride this elevator... we need to put something else on here with you."

I've never thought about going below 100, but now it's so tempting.