I was in to the gym this afternoon, and was astonished to see that I've apparently lost three pounds this week. More realistically, that's four pounds this month. I decided I had to start a more formal exercise program because I'd gained something like ten pounds last year, but I really didn't expect it to go away this fast. I'd be happy with one pound a month, really.
In fact, I don't really believe it. It's got to be a fluctuation, or the scale is off, or something.
But still, nothing makes me keener to go work out more often than a sign that it's actually doing something for me. <% cr_cdots %> Incidentally, those with an eye for literary foreshadowing will not be surprised when I say that last entry's rhetorical question has not gone away. I have, in fact, started seriously considering the idea of moving to Boston.
What's holding me in San Francisco? The answer appears to be, nothing very much.
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