I have never considered myself supersititious. Obsessive? Yes.
Obesessive-compulsive? Hell yes.
But superstitous? Nah...
Well...unless you count the me not being able to tell anyone I know about any good news until I am for absolutely certain that whatever good is happening won't suddenly stop, you know, happening.
Or the me making the sign of the cross thing before I drive, pass by a cemetery, or step on the scale.
Or the me closing my eyes thing until I have counted to ten before looking down at the digital display on said scale.
Or the me holding my breath thing while counting to ten in the nude because my bra and panties won't be allowed to screw with my karmic scale energy by throwing the verdict out a few onces too heavy.
*Pauline takes a moment to stop writing and glances at her list. Pauline shrugs her shoulders and goes back to typing, secure in the knowledge that she made the right choice to write non-fiction.*
And did I mention that I can only weigh myself on Mondays?
Or that I am considering naming my scale Louise?
Obviously, I like my scale today. It is, of course, Monday. And today's nude verdict was a very nice minus 2 from last week. Which means?
I am 8 pounds from pre-Buttercup weight.
But more importantly? It means I am now 12 pounds from sitting at an even 200. And? 13 from being able to say I weigh less than The Husband.
I hope you all realize that the fact I even said anything puts me at great cosmic risk of waking up tomorrow with an unexplained 90 pound weight-gain because I violated one of my own I'm Not Superstitious rules. But it's all good. Because as long as I weight until next Monday and strip, hold my breath, step on the scale, hold my breath, and open my eyes after counting to ten, all will be right with the world again.