the game continues

It's getting towards the end of the first week in the four week-long diet game I'm engaged in, and I'm having mixed results.

The rules allow for one meal off and a whole day off, and these are the only allowable drinking occasions each week.  On our semi-weekly date night, the Sober Husband and I went to Bar Agricole, and I explained my plan to him ahead of time.  "I'm going to try to have only one cocktail and call this my meal off.  If it's so good I have to have another one, it's my day off.  But don't let me go wild."

At Bar Agricole, the drinks were delightfully tempting.  "We make our own bitters," said our waiter proudly.  "It makes no sense to take so much care with a cocktail and then just pour some nasty old bitters in."  He made a disgusted face.  I've never myself been disappointed with store-bought bitters, but I was happy to sample the precious, carefully crafted drinks with the house-made bitters, and after the first I said to the Sober Husband, "We're calling it my day off."

I felt later proud, as I only consumed a bowl of white corn and padrones soup (the single best soup I have ever had at any restaurant), two cocktails, and a glass of Moscato while splitting a cheese plate with the Sober Husband.  "That's pretty good for a day off from my diet," I bragged.  But at the gym the next day, the scales told another story.  Far from losing any weight, I'd gone up six pounds.

How can that be?  Was it hormonal?  Was it the effects of the fattening alcohol upon my alcohol-starved body, just coming off a long month of no drinking?  Whatever it was, it was depressing.  My diet teammates rallied behind me, encouraging me to hang in there.

I tried to remember how far I've come already.  I've been cleaning out my closet of clothes I can no longer wear, as they hang upon me too loosely.  I got the most treasured compliment I've had yet lately, from a friend who mourned, "The sad part about you losing weight is your ass.  You had the greatest ass... so large, but so great."  I don't know why I like that compliment so much, but I do.

Whether I lose any more weight or not on this diet, the game is definitely influencing me.  Tonight we came home late after taking Iris to see "Beasts of the Southern Wilds" (which achieved the previously-unthought of accolade of three thumbs up, approved by the Sober Husband, Iris über Alles, and me in a rare moment of cinematic accord).  While the Sober Husband climbed into bed, I changed clothes and climbed on my rowing machine.  "My opponents are losing weight," I hissed.  "I have to exercise!"