Threatening

Having made my cookies (and eaten none too few, too), this morning's Moment of Truth arrived. The MoT involves stepping onto the bathroom scale that abides in the study. (It lurks behind my desk. I can feel it there now. Stalker.) The number has crept back up to where it was a couple of weeks ago. A couple of weeks during which someone ordered new one-size-smaller jeans. (Uh-oh.) The one-size-smaller jeans fit. They just need not fit quite as well as they do right now, and it's hardly a mystery as to why the scale reveals the return of those lost-and-found four pounds. Dessert + little jeans = strained seams. Today, I am going to substitute an extra couple of miles walking in hopes of relieving the pressure on those seams, and still being able to prance around feeling self-congratulatory in my skinnier-than-I-thought-possible jeans.