I've got good news. I lost a pound and a half.
Please don't ask me how it happened. I do not know. However, I can't celebrate too loudly.
Why, you ask?
It's because I'm in hiding.
I'm hiding from the pounds.
You see, the weight that I lose always seems to find its way back to me. That's bad enough, but then, it always brings friends.
It's like I'm the Ellis Island of pounds, welcoming them back to the landscape better known as my hips, thighs, stomach and various other locations.
Now that they're gone, I don't want them to find their way back to me. I'm sending them back to Poundland. The gates are closed. We are no longer accepting pounds.
So, if you see two pounds wandering around, and they ask, "Hey, have you seen Michele?" - under no circumstances should you tell them where I am.
Tell them I'm visiting Tibet. Tell them I have joined the convent (Yes, I know, that was pretty funny. I could barely contain my laughter just writing that one). Tell them I am following the Grateful Dead, and that I'm never coming back.
But don't, I repeat, do not, tell them where I am.
I'm free of them, and I want to stay that way. So, I'm celebrating my weight loss quietly, and hiding from those lost two pounds.
If the pounds ask, I was not here.
I think it must have been the cycling class. I'm down a pound too. Wanna do it again and kill two more?