First off, thanks for all the comments, people. Seems many can relate to my previous post. Who knew there were so many fatties? Glad to have some blubber buddies around.

Yes, I'm talking about you. No, you can't get insulted. It's a rule: Someone who's fat is allowed to make comments about your fat, especially if they're fatter than thou. Since I am most likely the fattiest of the fat, you need to eat your feelings with that bacon burger you're holding and deal with it. Together out journey will form a great series of books we can call The Chronicles of Lardia.

Catchy, isn't it?

So here's the skinny for this week. My original weight was 252. I am now down to 247.8 for a total of 4.2 pounds.

I have such a love/hate relationship with digital scales. They speaketh the truth which is good when one is motivated, but horrible when one is wanting to hide from reality inside a tub of ice cream. However, since I'm still feeling motivated I'm all about the reality. Seeing 247.8 is so, soooo much better than a reading of, say, 248.1. Sure there's only a .3 pound difference, but who cares? For those who are bad at math like yours truly, it looks like an entire pound and that's all that matters.

Thank you, digital scale. You are like sex in a grey box on my bedroom floor. Well, not exactly like sex. That would be weird and gross. But good like that. We're becoming friends, or at least frenemies.

Anyway, there are many spokes that make up the wheel of my Maven life. There's my newfound healty lifestyle and my, um... My coffee, and... Oh, and Dr. Who which is such a good show... and... uh... stuff. Other stuff.

Oh! Yes. And my family! Right. Those guys.

I'm happy to report that I haven't resorted to gnawing on Spawnling's limbs out of sheer starvation. I thought about it, but decided that there are many alternatives, such as 100 calorie snacks. Once his little fingers started to look like pieces of Kit Kat I knew it was time to stock up on the portion-controlled goodies. He still has his arms, his legs, tail and horns.

A few days ago Intrepid went onto the deck with the following items:

- 2 sippy cups
- a bungee chord
- apple juice
- duct tape

I was curious. How could I not be? He was either creating a new invention or going gopher hunting with the intent of drowning his prey in sweet acidity. Not very humane but it saves the need to marinate. We should try it on the squirrels.

How I wish my camera was working right now so I coud take a picture! (Anyone want to buy me a camera? My birthday is in just over a month and I'd like something high end. I must have some rich readers out there somewhere).

He came back into the house with a bungee chord tied behind his neck. Dangling down his chest from the chord were both sippy cups filled with juice and fastened together with the duct tape.

"Father's milk!" declared a proud eleven-year-old. "For when you go out and Spawnling won't go to sleep without boobies. Now he can have juice from dad!"

Spawnling shouted "Mama Miiii!" and grabbed one of the sippy cups as he giggled to himself.

"Ouch. He's heavy, mom. How do you do this every day?" asked Intrepid from the couch as he was mauled by thirty pound toddler.

I'm sad to report that Spawnling was weaned off of Father's Milk after only a single feeding. If only Intrepid had the support and guidance of an educated Juicetation Consultant. Spawnling's teeth might have rotted out of his head, but the bond they could have formed...

One day, my eldest son will be Prime Minister of the world, bringing nations together through peace talks and nurturing the mothering instinct in all men through plastic boobs leaking apple juice.

Honestly, I love my life. I have the best kids ever.