Cheekbones. I see cheekbones.

Like the killer legs of my intermittently misspent youth, they are still in there somewhere. I caught a glimpse when I was washing my face last night. When I lose weight, I seem to start at the edges and work my way in. Maybe it's that way for everybody.

My rings are looser. Not enough to get them sized down as yet. But enough that they are starting to slip around, which will become increasingly annoying. I like my rings and watches to stay put. Most days, my shoes are looser as well. I rarely have to deal with seriously swollen feet or ankles anymore. Only if I get too much salt or too little sleep. Or both.

I have had to fold up my favorite pair of black slacks and put them in the give-away bag. They are gently broken-in, far too good to cut up and share for doll clothes. Somebody else should get to enjoy them until they have outworn their usefulness.

I've bought a raft of dressy T-shirts over the past couple of years. At the current rate they should be good for another two to four months. And then most of them will get donated, and I will have to buy smaller ones, but probably only half as many. I like to look nice, and I like to have colorful options, but I don't like to waste money.

The attorneys threw a little party for us yesterday. Texas size petits fours (square, and midway in size between a regular cupcake and a Costco muffin) and punch. I skipped the punch entirely. I tried to share my petit four with one of my skinny friends, but none of them wanted the other half.

I remembered how awful I felt after the cupcake and individual ice cream cup at the March birthday party, and I did not want a repeat. So I ate half of my petit four at the party and the rest at my desk throughout the afternoon. Came home and ate a huge salad and three small dolmas for dinner. By the time I finished music practice, my feet were moderately swollen but not painful, and they're in pretty good shape this morning.

I've been up for an hour, had a light breakfast, and now need to go to the gym. I've missed every other day this week. I have stuff to do, and it's easier to do when I've started the day with exercise. Examples: getting into and out of Lorelai and the Tardis. Sitting down and getting back up again (except for Firstborn's couch; that still requires an act of Congress). Lugging groceries. Standing to cook. Washing dishes or loading and unloading the dishwasher. Packing my lunch on weekdays. Driving for more than an hour.

Today's agenda: work out; balance checkbooks; doll meet with Fourthborn and Mel (there's a doll con in Grapevine today, but Fourthborn and I are just meeting people for lunch at a nearby park); prepare RS lesson for tomorrow. I'm subbing. Sounds like a recipe for a most excellent day.