As in vey. I knew Rachel's birthday would mean blowing the diet for the weekend, but it got blown before the weekend and it hasn't yet recovered. Weight-wise, it hasn't been the death knell, but it has the potential to be problematic. My dad, down visiting didn't resist the urge to pat my stomach, but when I protested, did say that he could see that I had lost weight. So it must be muscle mass from the still unfinished path project. Who knows when I'll be able to work on that again.
We've had cake, we have ice cream we forgot put out at the party, and we took meals to two families who just had new babies and have left-over brownies. I'm in a world of hurt. And I have to drive by myself to work today, so I know there's a stop at Starbucks in my future.
I've even lost track of what's ok, I think. Last week was cookies, so this week must be doughnuts. No cake, ice cream or cookies. Starting... nowish. Sort of.