I'd have worn silk pants, if I'd had them. Instead, I decided to weigh three pairs of trousers, individually, on my cooking scales. Having selected the lightest pair, I removed my watch, false teeth (not really) and found a skimpy blouse. I kept the earrings on. The girl has standards. It was my Slimming Club today, and I had a weigh-in. I have had to negotiate two meals out this week and I was doubtful that I would have any success on the scales, unless I gave into a little mechanical engineering. Today I lost one and a half pounds. That's what the scales said, and that is in my book.
We live in an age where, apparently, it is the norm to str-etch the truth. So that is what I was doing this morning.
It might have been the smell of burning underwear that gave me away. Except I wasn't wearing any.
'Course I was. Truth-stretching is so much easier than Pilates. But I know which one would be better for me.
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