"It's the Incredible Shrinking Pauline!" The Husband reaches to hug me as I lean over him in bed. "Oh shut up," I say, as I get out of bed and start to wiggle off my jogging pants. He called me Skinny last week, and well, after years of looking in a mirror and cursing my cellulite camouflaged waist, I'm still not sure what to do with comments like these yet. "I probably gained a bazillion pounds over the holiday."
"You probably did great," he says.
"Maybe." I reach over my head and pull my tank top off. The Husband raises an eyebrow. His lips curl into a smirk. "Well, good morning to me...."
"Sorry, sweeter. But the scale's getting lucky this morning, not you."
"Well, shit," he says, rolling back over to fall asleep again. "Only the third day into the New Year and you're already breaking your resolutions. Typical."
"Oh shut up," I say as I walk into the bathroom. "I haven't had a chance to make my To-Do list for the day. Keep it up and I won't put you on it for the next week."
I turn on the scale, take a deep breath, and close my eyes. After two weeks of holiday indulgences...stolen bites of apple pie, a glass of wine or champagne to ring in the New Year, that cheesy crab dip that I made with all organic and clean ingredients that was still a calorie-laden plate of dippable goodness...after all that I fully expect to find out I've gained the average Holiday Five. I used to gain weight just looking at food,
"Wait a minute. It's time for the moment of truth." I step onto the scale.
"Nothing," I say disappointed. "I didn't lose a thing."
"Hey, Jackass," The Husband calls out from bed,"isn't that a good thing?"
"Oh, right. Nothing kicks ass right about now, doesn't it?"
"Sure does, Skinny. Sure does."