Cheater, cheater.

I'm down another three pounds, which brings my total loss since the beginning of January to nine - and FINALLY taking me out of the same group of ten pounds that I've been in for the last three years!!
PLUS I did 40 minutes on the Air Climber today!
SUCCESS!!

However, the way I found that out today kind of makes me feel like a cheater.
Instead of weighing myself on Monday, as is always my custom, I weighed myself today.
Not because I intend to gorge myself at a post-work Super Bowl party this evening, but because I do plan on eating at said party.

Let me explain.
I get out of work at 7 p.m. on Sundays, which I find pretty late to be sitting down for a meal, but I do because there's really no time to eat at work. During the week, I have my daily Skinny Cow ice cream sandwich between 7-8 p.m. because I mentally Close the Kitchen immediately following dinner.

I just know that by the time I get to the party and have a few healthy nibbles - fingers crossed I steer clear of my arch nemesis chips and dip - it will be well past 8 p.m.

And weighing myself tomorrow will only get me down because I know it wouldn't really be a true number. Does that make sense or am I a retched no-good cheater of my diet system?

If the latter, if I promise never to do this again, am I still a bad person?

In other diet confession news, I went to a fantastic pizza/wing place, Frog Pond in Wilkes-Barre, Friday night.
{check out its Web site here: Frog Pond}
I indulged in two cuts of Sicilian and five wings, which I never had before and which were amazing. I didn't feel guilty one bit because I knew I had been good all day because I had saved my points. I hadn't had the pizza in eons, it used to be a Tuesday night tradition at the Weekender many moons ago, one in which I'd house about half a tray by myself.

The next day, I had two leftover cuts - which quickly turned into two more (they're cut into really small squares I swear).
Suddenly, as I mindlessly ate cut No. 4 in like 30 seconds, I envisioned a flashing "Danger Danger" sign. Having five cuts remaining still in the fridge, I did the only thing I could do.

I looked at them longingly for a second before I dumped them out of the box into the garbage. Drastic measures, but a necessary measure. I'm glad I was able to enjoy them when they were fresh and oozy with cheese and as cold leftovers, but I wasn't doing myself any favors having them in my fridge.

Have you ever resorted to such a tactic to save yourself from temptation?

Wilkes-Barre state of mind.

A week from now, the presents will be open and Christmas Day will soon change into The Day After Christmas.

I am not done shopping and dread going to finish.

Things have been so hectic and busy that I've not had the time to buy the rest of my gifts, and when I have had time, I chose to spend it having fun, like the great party I attended last night at Revere Pictures in downtown Wilkes-Barre, for example.

Is that so wrong?
Will Santa leave me off the good list for taking care of my needing of a fabulous party? I hope not because the party was good for me. I got to hone my rusty mingling skills and, from the seventh floor of a downtown building I'd never been in before, I got to see a Wilkes-Barre I'd never seen before.

I'd driven and walked around Public Square a million times in my lifetime and never did I have such an appreciation for it as I do now after seeing it from seven, and later in the night, 11 stories up.

The way the cars snaked around the Square, white headlights and red taillights offset by its white-lit trees was poetic. I stood in front of a wall of windows and saw the city seemingly for the first time.

It was so moving. So almost metropolitan. So calming. So unlike the things I see when I walk the streets during the day in search of lunch.

And on the other side of the floor, seeing the eagles of the Market Street Bridge, was equally inspiring. Seeing them from such a height highlighted how regal and strong they are.

It was a great evening on so many levels, and the free booze wasn't even at the forefront. It was the conversations, the companionship, the schmoozing, the meeting new people. It was seeing a city I'm often quick to dump on - a lot of times rightly so, mind you (you do read the paper, right?) - in a whole new light: the light of the night.

Progress!

I have been eating healthy all week long.
I walked two miles on both Monday and Tuesday, then did a kick ass 20 minutes of Air Climbing on Sunday and Wednesday - plus did abs all four days.

I feel great, really, really watched what I ate and as a result, I saw the scale go down consistently every day.
{Kindly don't judge me weighing myself daily. It was an experiment, an experiment I say!}

When I craved sugar, I had one of the sugar free chocolate pudding cups I've come to adore with a dollop of Cool Whip in the can.
{It still baffles me that it tastes exactly like Cool Whip in the tub. Magic. Magic!}

Last night, I made myself gosh darn proud.
After dinner with my coworkers, I was mad craving a Dairy Queen Blizzard.
I mean so mad craving I thought I was going to pass out if I didn't have one.

From where we had dinner, there were two DQs within a 5 1/2 minute drive, with my house in the middle.
It was like a Choose Your Own Adventure Book as I drove down South Main Street and around Wilkes-Barre's Public Square. Did I want to:

A.) Go around the Square to the left and head to the Kingston DQ
OR
B.) Go around the Square to the right and head to the Plains DQ
OR
C.) Go straight around the Square and head home????

It was the [at least] 300 calorie question.

I chose C.) and got to the light where I would make the right turn that would take me to my street. But instead of making that right turn, I went left and headed to my local grocer.
{I told you I was having a mad craving.}

Walking up and down the ice cream aisle, I saw cheap half gallons quite like those of the Chocolate Marshmallow Incident that made my craving worsen. I knew I couldn't buy one of them again because it would totally derail the mindset I'm working so hard to set.

I saw the pints Ben & Jerry's I used to eat for dinner practically every night back in high school that I'd never gain an ounce from.

I saw the super-expensive Weight Watchers ice cream I really like but am too much of a miser to buy.

I kept coming back to the Skinny Cow ice cream sandwiches. The bright green mint ones. They looked so, so, SO good, but for $4, I just couldn't do it. It's ice cream for the love of Moses - i c e c r e a m!

But there I was plunking down the dough before driving home as fast as humanly possible.
I got in my jammies, sat at the kitchen table and opened the plastic container of two-points-each-goodness and took my first bite.

It was exquisite.
I savored that chocolaty minty wonder for as long as I could until it dripped down my arm.
{Of course I licked my arm. Waste not, want not and all that jazz.}

I was so proud of myself.
I exorcised the craving demon I've always caved into before.
When I scampered back into the kitchen with the intent to have a second sandwich, I slammed the freezer door shut and loudly said, "No!" - and actually listened for the first time.

I think I finally am making a break with my obsession with food.
And it tastes good.
Like minty goodness that's bad for me.
Except that it isn't!

Everyone loves a parade.

Not true.
My mom loathes parades - and "parks and picnics" too.

I follow suit.
- While I love food on the grill, I'm not a fan of eating outside. Too many bugs, too hot, etc.
- I like to hike, but only when it's cool, like in the fall or this time of year, and definitely before the snakes wake up.
- And I certainly do not like parades, for several reasons:
---- They congest traffic.
---- There is just way too many people and I'm not one for mobs.
---- You just end up waiting forever, especially if you are part of said parade waiting for your moment to march.

However, one parade is just too much fun: St. Patrick's Day Parade.
Parade Weekend starts this Saturday morning in Scranton well before a normal workday starts ... like 6 a.m. I kid you not.
It's so much fun, even with the mobs in the bars and on the streets. It's mayhem, Mardi Gras and Carnival but more fun.

I don't care what your nationality is (mine is mostly Sicilian/Italian BTW), it's the one day that everyone is - or wants to be - Irish.
See exhibit A below:

It's just a damn fun day.

On Sunday, it happens again in Wilkes-Barre.
Now, this parade isn't comparable to Scranton's parade day, but you know what?
This is definitely the year that could take W-B to the next level - there's so many more places downtown open, it's refreshing.

Over the past four years, I've seen W-B grow so much, from hundreds of spectators, to thousands. From nothing, to some things open on parade route.
This year is going to be pretty exciting for W-B and if you believe in hair of the dog as they say, make sure to slainte both days!