It's Weigh Day!

A cough. A shiver. The detective awoke to a blinding winter sun. Although it was an early Saturday morning, he had a busy agenda: lacrosse season was starting (he was a coach at the local high school), the kids were scheduled for soccer practice, and the crime business was booming. In his division, one of the busiest in Philadelphia, stabbings had become the thugs' preferred assault. Last night alone, there were three knife attacks, one that may eventually prove fatal.

All this weighed heavily on his mind as he groggily entered the bathroom. After a quick glance into the mirror, he muttered to himself, "More grey. Swell." Sleep was at a premium of late - the combination of a newborn baby and a busy night work tour - but amidst the swirling apathy of his soul a glimmer of hope arose: the diet appeared to be working.

The detective allowed himself a quick smile. When he returned to Weight Watchers like a chubby Prodigal Son, he had ballooned up to 236 pounds. Now, after a stressful first week or two of avoiding the junk, his appetite seemed to readjust. Luckily, he had a terrific online support group: a close circle of blogger friends who were toiling along with him. Losing the weight was getting easier, and since the start of the new year, he had lost 16 pounds. Not too bad.

Saturday was his Weigh Day, and as he stared down the scale like Wyatt Earp, something told him he would win this showdown. It had been a good points week, and his two hockey games certainly burned off unnecessary calories. So, he stood there. In his skivvies. Confident in his self-control.

The detective stepped onto the scale, and looked at the reading. Another smile. This week's numbers read "218." It was a loss of two pounds, and a total loss of 18. "Still fat," he said to no one in particular, "but I'm making progress."

It was going to be a very good day.

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