Cough-sputter-cough-stall

I keep turning the key in the ignition of this wagon thing, but it's not going anywhere. It just goes "rawr-rawr-rawr-rawr-putt-putt-die" over and over again.

Every now and then, the clutch will catch, the wagon will lurch forward in a burst of speed and accomplishment, and then it just dies again.

This is all quite frustrating.

However, I have more or less kept the thing from rolling backward. In the past, when the wagon wouldn't start, it seemed as though I would roll it to the top of the nearest hill and let it coast down in reverse until it was going too fast to stop. Finally, it would crash into Fat Me. Fat Me, sitting like a lump at the bottom of that hill, looking up the slope and wondering how in the HELL I was ever going to get to the top with a broken-ass wagon.

I need to look at this stalled out moment from a new perspective. Not one of failure and misery, but of mild success in preventing a full-on reversal of what weight I have lost. Though I have been hovering around the same weights for quite a while, now, they are (on average) about 10-pounds lighter than my stalling point weights of the past. I have dipped into the 280s before, but I have never LIVED in them, which is what I am doing right now.

As soon as I can kick this bitch into gear again, I will be well on my way to the 270s and closer to fitting into the jeans hanging on my bedroom wall than I ever have been before.

Let's kick the tires and light the fires, people.