If you're scared, say you're scared.

I'm terrified.

(That was an homage to my late cousin Cary, who died in a train wreck nearly nine years ago, still in his 20's - just a month after our grandmother died. It was one of his favorite sayings.)

Anyway.

I'm terrified, y'all.

Terrified to go to weigh in.

Oh, I've learned so much this week - like that I eat way too fast, and that I feel so much better without all those processed foods.

And also, that plain yogurt with blackberries can be a good stand-in when your husband sends you to Sonic to fetch him some ice cream.

I know I've done well. At least, I think I've done well. I've learned to prioritize my treats, because I only get so many of those flex points per week.

I've also decided that, no matter what the scale says when I weigh in in a mere two hours, I'm not giving up. I'm giving myself more than just a week to learn this new program, more than just a week for my body to adjust to this change.

Weight Watchers Scale of Destiny, here I come.