I'm discovering that I have to keep resetting my diet goals. I had hoped to be done with the 'twenties' by the end of February. But here it is Feb. 11 and I finally hit back on 229. Which I hit the first time on Feb. 1st. So the last ten days although I have been to the gym and have eaten well, have been spent watching my weight go up and down and up and down and finally come back to 229. Frustrating. My first reaction is anger toward the scale. I imagine stomping it to death or throwing it out the window. With my luck, I'd either break my foot, do damage to the window or hit a passerby and be sued for millions that I don't have. After I decide not to murder the scale, I vent my anger on the light switch. You can hit that thing pretty hard, get the resounding splat of hand on metal and the solid click of the switch. Then there's the door. Unfortunately, my bathroom door doesn't slam - it's much more of a swishey sound as the edge of the door is restricted by the pile of the carpet in the bedroom. Very unimpressive. So no great smashing slamming doors for me. Then it's verbal. "I'm not doing this anymore. What's the point? I might as well be eating? How is this fair? This is so unfair." The ranting and raving continues for a few minutes. Then I take it out on my clothes (because of course we all weigh in naked) as I jam my foot into a pants leg, or rip a sweater off a hanger. Luckily my house has stairs so I can stomp my way down those steps. And hopefully, by the time I reach the bottom of the staircase I will have stomp-thrown-slammed-jammed my way out of the anger zone because the next stop is the kitchen. If I show up there still mad, havoc could reign. Cupboards would be thrown open, searched, slammed, re-opened, re-slammed.  And food stuffed in on a problem that isn't personal - it's simply chemistry. It's really an adult sized tantrum.  So for today, the scale is safe from harm and I will do the only thing that makes sense - go to the gym and eat well. And maybe slam a few more doors.