Bon Bons to Yoga Pants

Chapter 30-The Dreaded Plateau

"You're awfully cheery tonight," Mira observed the next Wednesday evening, eyeing me askance as she climbed out of her car. "Since when did you look forward to coming to Bitsy's house?"

A light snow crunched beneath my feet as I walked toward the front door. Mira held onto the fence for balance.

"Since I started Zumba with Kenzie. I've been working out twice a day. It's so much fun that I go every night before dinner."

Mira perked up. "Really? That's wonderful!"

Mira didn't get all weird or defensive when other people showed motivation or weight loss, the way I would have. She just beamed at me like a proud Mama. It was my favorite thing about her.

"This weigh in is going to rock, Mira! I can feel it. I'm thinking I've lost at least five pounds, maybe six."

She tugged at my loose size eighteen pants. I wore them as a trophy. Having them so baggy I couldn't feel the material on my legs made me feel like a champion. Mira rang the doorbell, and the familiar shrieks of two little girls hopping by the window and into their back bedroom followed. Bitsy opened the door looking a bit haggard. She wore her workout clothes as usual, but appeared so tired that I thought we might have woken her up.

"Come on in," she said with a tight smile, swinging the door open and motioning inside. "Please excuse my mess. It's been a long day."

Bitsy's mess consisted of a few dirty dishes stacked next to the sink in the kitchen, a quiet rerun of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse playing on the TV, and a few toys on the floor. The rest of her house looked as in-place as usual. Her daughters giggled and laughed from the back room before slamming the door closed.

"You all right, Bits?" Mira asked, her eyebrows furrowing. "You seem . . . tired."

Bitsy rubbed her eyes and ran a hand over her face. "It's been a long day."

Mira's questioning gaze deepened into one of greater understanding. "Problems with the girls?"

"My ex is giving me trouble over child support again."

They had a silent exchange, and Mira's nostrils flared with rage. Something in my chest lurched for Bitsy. Her ex? My eyes quickly sped around the room to all the pictures. A dark-haired man lingered in a couple. I'd never met or seen any man around the house before, and had just assumed she was still married. Bitsy must have seen the confusion in my eyes because she spoke up before I could ask.

"We divorced two years ago when he cheated on me with his secretary. I keep the pictures of him up for the girls, who adore him, but don't get to see him much these days. It's all they really have."

"He's a prig," Mira stated. "An ugly, ugly man hiding behind a pretty face. I can say that because I've met him."

A semblance of a smile appeared in Bitsy's eyes, but disappeared quickly. "Yes, a prig. Let's not talk about him anymore. Let's get started with the meeting."

She motioned for me to sit down, and she and Mira walked down the hall to the scale. Instead of sitting, I walked up to the pictures and studied them. Bitsy's husband had been an extremely attractive man. Tall, lean, muscular, with a bright smile and dark hair. But what did that matter if he had the personality of a lech? I thought of Bradley, whom I hadn't spoken with in almost two days now, and wondered if maybe I was just being fooled by a pair of light eyes. Apparently being attractive wasn't the most important thing.

Mira and Bitsy shuffled back out of the bathroom a few minutes later. Mira's eyes lit up.

"A wonderful weigh in is right!" she declared, grinning. Bitsy must have reminded her of the strict no-numbers policy, for Mira didn't elaborate anymore. But I caught her enthusiasm and remembered my initial excitement.

This was going to be the best weigh in ever.

With light feet I followed Bitsy back to the pastel room of terror. Now that I looked at it, however, it didn't seem so bad. The baby blue was a bit overdone, but it was a nice bathroom.

"All right," Bitsy said, clipboard in hand, defenses firmly in place again behind her steely eyes. "Let's see how well you've done this week."

"It's going to be awesome," I declared, stepping out of my shoes and peeling my jacket off. "I've been working out twice a day with my sister, who is actually pretty cool it turns out. My calories have been right on and—"

My heart stuttered to a stop.

247.

"Bitsy," I whispered. "Does the scale say the same number it said last week?"

Her forehead crinkled. "Oh, yes," she said in surprise. "It does."

Dreams of reaching 240 disintegrated in my hands like melting flakes of snow. "How?" I whispered, feeling hoarse. "How can that be?"

She wrote the number down and shrugged. "Probably just a plateau. It happens sometimes."

"What's a plateau?" I cried, whirling around to face her and nearly falling off the scale.

"It just means you've hit a spot where your numbers aren't going down. Maybe your increased workouts caused it. Give it time. You'll work through. Maybe try eating back some of the calories that you burn. You don't want to undereat because your body still needs calories to function and to burn."

My mouth bobbed up and down. I hadn't been this surprised at a number since the scale first flashed the ugly truth of 259 on my first weigh in. I sank to the toilet feeling wobbly.

"But I've felt so good this week!" I cried. "I've worked so hard. I've tracked everything. I drank more water than a fish. I didn't even eat a Cinnabon when Rachelle offered to buy one for me! It's not fair!"

Bitsy pressed her lips together. "Lots of things in life aren't fair, Lex. You just have to keep going."

I pulled in a breath. In the aftermath of all her very real problems, I felt ashamed reacting to my simple little issue.

She pointed her pen at me. "Don't let this derail you. I've had plateaus that have lasted for three weeks. You'll work through it eventually, trust me."

"Three weeks?" I gasped. "I don't have three weeks to waste on a plateau!"

"Because you're still determined to work out for that guy?"

"Uh, no. I just . . . I just have a life to live and it won't be a very long one if I keep carrying all this weight around."

Bitsy rolled her eyes. "Right. Come on, let's go. We'll discuss plateaus out here with Mira. I think you'll feel better once you realize how common they are."

"I'd rather burn the scale," I muttered, sliding my shoes back on with a low growl of frustration. Images of my missed Cinnabon danced through my brain. A good dollop of frosting would really hit the spot. I might as well have eaten the pastry for all that depriving myself got me.

"I'll start the fire," Bitsy offered, flicking the light off. "We'll use my old wedding certificate as kindling."

There's nothing worse than the plateau when you're dieting. #Seriously

Unfortunately, they're inevitable, normal, and can usually be worked through. Not with Cinnabons, unfortunately.

But let's face it: what is better than a warm cinnabon? If you can think of something, leave it in the comments. But I submit that you cannot.

Make sure you don't miss any updates by adding this to your library. You guys are the bomb!

MUAH!