215 Happy Irrational

Catherine is home for the weekend. It makes it feel like a holiday.  I did very well yesterday. Was moving some boxes around at work so I got a little exercise there too as well as walking to and from work.  I had lots of points left for dinner so I didn't feel too guilty about the pizza and cookies. I actually wanted to do one thing right (as opposed to making myself do something right)--I wanted garlic toast but we hadn't bought any, but just eating pizza and veggie tray stuff didn't sound filling so I made some fake garlic toast with 2 slices of diet bread with I can't believe it's not butter and garlic salt--a three point option.  The good thing was that the toast was a FAR FAR FAR better choice than having another slice or two of pizza--and this choice was NOT about trying to be good. This was a choice about wanting a satisfying pizza dinner.  Anyway the irrational part was this morning--I slept in and went to the bathroom and saw the scale. A little voice in my head said, "Maybe I'll weigh 186!" To which the another part answered--"you had pizza and cookies last night. What do you think you weigh?" "186,!" the real fundamental me answers.   Reality? 187. Which is totally fine--even something of a relief, but silly. Weighing daily is stupid--it doesn't mean anything.