Monday, February 8, 2016

In Fine Form

This past Saturday morning, I tentatively stepped on my scale.

Adam and I had gone out the night before. We went to a restaurant called Ember's. I ordered a fun, fizzy cocktail, and we split an order of spring rolls for an appetizer. Adam had a steak, and I devoured the most amazing burger with a side of duck fat fries and aioli.

Obviously I wasn't looking forward to my weigh-in that following day. Even though we had followed dinner with a trip to Half Price Books—which always includes me practically sprinting down every aisle in glee—I figured the scale wouldn't be too pleasing.

I closed my eyes. Opened them. Closed them once more. And then finally, I looked down.

"What? No way," I said, seeing a beautiful, low number on the scale. "That can't be right."

I stepped off the scale and back on again.

The same number appeared.

I picked the scale up, released the batteries and blew some dust out of its insides.

And yet? The same number.

I am now down 12.5 pounds!

And I could not be prouder.


  1. Woohoo! Congrats Jenna! I'm so proud of you, and so cheering you on! All that working out is bound to have positive effect! Thumbs up and bon courage! :)

  2. That. Is. Awesome!! I am so happy for you!! It's all about moderation (and apparently that red wine!) Great job Jenna. Keep doing what you're doing.