My Timex keeps on ticking all over my last good nerve.

Let me begin by saying, I love my watch. I am naked without it. It's big and silver and chunky and I can set the alarm by turning a dial around the outside of the face. Too easy. I love it.

But it is now, officially, driving me crazy.

I don't have a scale nor do I particularly want one. Those numbers don't mean a whole hell of a lot to me. I judge the way my body is changing by the way my clothes fit. Or don't fit, as the case may be. So, now my beloved watch keeps spinning around my wrist.

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr........

It's a good thing, yes. It's a sign of progress in the fat girl going bye-bye front. But it's also annoying as hell!!! It also means I'm going to have to take a pin out to make the clasp band smaller. This does not bode well for my beloved watch. I have butchered more than a few watches trying to make them fit better and I'm entirely too cheap to take it to a jeweler.

I know what you're thinking.

"Good grief, Steph! Get over it! It's a watch. Take it to WalMart or something."

And you're right, but I'm not excited about standing naked in the middle of the jewelry department at WalMart. It's too close to the Junior's department and that place just pisses me off.

I was shocked to find that my legs weren't sore today. Really shocked. It's too cold to go running today, but tonight is a lift night. Arms. Look out Ahhhnold! Fat Girl comin' through!!