Not that anyone cares but when I weighed myself at the gym yesterday I was down a pound, even though went to Abbott’s the night before for a frozen custard that probably hasn’t had time to show up on my butt yet.
Right after I started working out, I gained two pounds, then lost four, then gained two. Essentially, I started working out in November and weigh the same now as I did five months ago.
Everyone tells me that I’m getting more toned, and Phil the trainer keeps reminding me “muscles weighs more than fat but takes up four times less space.” Right, right. Riiiiight.
OK, even I have to admit that without any actual loss in pounds I am seeing results. I was able to put on a pair of jeans yesterday that for a long time I hadn’t really been able to get zipped – and not only put them on but wear them around for most of the afternoon without cutting off the blood supply to my legs or strangling my internal organs.
So maybe Phil’s right. I suppose all this work has been worth the wait.