I should tell you

that I've gained four pounds in 2 weeks. 

I should tell you that this morning, I reread an email I had from Valkyrie where we discussed the New Year and eating better and trying out the Atkins, and then in a carbohydrate panic, rushed over and made 4 more mini pancakes for myself from Jonathan's stash.

I should tell you that last night, as I watched Desperate Housewives, I couldn't believe that Really Fat Susan looked like a skinny version of me.

I should tell you that I weigh almost the same now as I do when I was 40 weeks and 1 day pregnant with my 8lb5oz baby boy.

I should tell you that I can't figure out what has happened, or when I eat, or why I eat, or what I eat that is causing this to be so.  I know it isn't hormonal, because in the hopes that my thyroid all of a sudden gave out, I went to the doctor and got a complete work-up, only to be told I was the healthiest fat person he'd ever seen.

I should tell you that today, I promised myself I would go walking with the boys despite it being virtually impossible because of their yelling and squirming to "walk" along with me, which turns my power walk into carrying a 30lb baby home with me while the neighbors slow down and stare.  And instead, I ate a hamburger from McDonald's.  *barf*

I would tell you all these things, but the problem is, I haven't told myself yet.  I've been getting by on my "pretty face" for a while now, but my newly founded double chin is getting in the way.

As soon as I decide to face the truth, I promise, I'll tell you.