Weight, Weight - don't tell me!

Okay pardon the pun based on one of my NPR favs, but seriously . . .  I am restraining myself from looking at the bathroom scale this morning because I Do Not Want To Know how far away I am from the little goal I had set myself - the damn five pounds I keep making nun like vows to lose, then retaining when HoneyBunny AKA My Husband and I have another six people to dinner or go to our friends' house to play Cranium and snack all night.  This five pound goal has been with me since I made plans three months ago to go to Boston tomorrow. Yep, goin' to the Big Citay (and I mean BC since I live on top of a mesa outside Moab UT, population 5,000 until the tourists arrive every season) where I will make a pilgrimage to Nordstroms and get fitted for some decent jeans - while attempting not to hyperventilate at the price.  My faithful Gaps have served me well but since the lifestyle here calls for jeans about 96.8 of the time I have decided to spring for some that don't make me look like I've been out ridin' the range . . . and I DO eat well and exercise (The Beatty Dog AKA Zen Master of Love walks me daily plus Pilates with Miss Christine, my awesome trainer) . .. but then champagne and chocolate - my two major food groups - intervene.