"I Bought a Scale" - or Chapter 2 in My Journey to Lose Weight

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Swing band hour on the radio. Muted trumpets and a nice breeze  as evening turns to night. Imagine my surroundings in black and white, and it's almost enough to put me in a good mood, certainly a melancholy one (baby). Walk into a pleasant apartment after 12 hours at work and I almost wished I still smoked. I would open a bottle of wine but would have to throw it out before I had any one else to share it with. I briefly consider polishing off the bottle myself but know this atmosphere won't keep for too long

I'm getting hungry and I know there is a frozen pizza in the freezer. Shit. There goes the mood. 

In that flitting moment when I remember the pizza, my own personal Romantic Comedy morphs into a B Horror movie.  

In the former, I live in the upper east side and am bored, seeking a simpler life in Vermont. In the latter, I'm changing into a boll wevil frantically seeking a cotton plantation in the bronx.

Back to reality and I am congratulating myself for buying a scale.
When I take it out of the car kudos will really be in order.

I have to wean myself off sweets and carbonated beverages prior to my gastric sleeve surgery. 

I will. I always rise to the occasion, no matter how far down I start. 

Pretty soon my hugs will have to come from people instead of food.

But for now a pizza yearns for attention.