I’m not bragging or anything – but it seems like every time I step on the scale, I’ve lost another pound. And I”m seriously doing nothing. In fact, the whole reason I even step on the scale every so often (ok, once a week) is because I’m sitting at my desk, feeling my muffin top creep over my waistband, looking at my jiggly thighs and feeling like a total pudge for not working out. So I get on the scale to remind myself that I need to work out.
But I end up not feeling so bad and heading down to the fridge to raid the hazelnut chocolate bar instead.
I’m feeling a little worried that once Ryder weans off the boob, my days of sweet indulgences will be gone. Either that, or I will have to start working out more. Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. 
