One point two

Down another 1.2 pounds this week. That's what I lost last week and, I think, the week before that. If the trend continues, I should be under the Number That Shall Not Be Named next week.

If . . .

Except—could it be any more predictable?—I'll probably be getting my period tomorrow.

Oh, but here's one of them thar nonscale victories for you: I got a rejection letter yesterday, from an agent that I had very high hopes for, and I haven't tried to eat myself numb.

Now, partly, that's because it was a really nice rejection letter. I mean NICE. I mean, so complimentary it almost didn't even hurt. NICE.

But still. It can be as nice as it wants to be but it's still a REJECTION.

Yup. PMS. Dream agent rejection.

Worth a visit