morning, I went out again.
After a few weeks, I added short workouts while she napped—squats beside the couch, exercises on the living-room rug, anything I could stop the moment she woke.
I also started paying more attention to what I ate. I wasn’t starving myself. I simply planned meals instead of surviving on crackers and whatever Ryan had left in the refrigerator.
Progress came painfully slowly.
Sometimes I lost two pounds in a week. Other times, the scale showed the same number for three straight weeks.
Ryan always seemed
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