Last night

I dreamt of food. A delicious, high-heaped chocolate sundae with banana bits, maraschino cherries, and a tower of fresh-whipped cream. It was on a table in front of me and I couldn't bring myself to eat it.

Today I'm 158. Again, in spite of the fact that I drank half a bottle of red wine last night, and again, because I smoked like a chimney and didn't touch food that everyone else was eating (they ordered pizza last night, for heaven's sakes).

Also haven't gone to the gym in three days. Is shut today, so will go tomorrow. And of course, will not drink or eat tonight. The only thing I'm scared of is that this auto-pilot weight loss ceases to be. Oh please, please, please don't let that happen. It's the only thing I have right now. the semblance of control.