Because you can HAVE that second drink if you worked out.

So I'm sitting here blogging at 10:15 at night with a glass of wine. Is that bad? And I had to search the tiny house for like 5 minutes to locate the open bottle of wine I left in the living room after my workout. Yes, I'm havin' a drink. Or two. BECAUSE I DESERVE IT. Them. I worked out, again, for a whole hour -- cardio and toning, the works. And I always feel saintly after I do that. And hungry. And thirsty. It's 10:15 at night and I want to eat something. Arrgghh.

And why isn't the fat just melting away like it used to? Crap, is this going to require an internet search on aging and metabolism? I refuse to harsh my mellow with sensible BS right now, so I'm not doing a search for depressing stuff I already know. Yes, I'm getting older, I have no muscle to burn fat, I sit my chubby butt on a chair all day long and don't even have a commute to burn calories -- the trip from my bedroom to my office is about 30 feet. I need to burn more fat by moving more and increasing my muscle mass. I. Get. It. It just sucks. And then when you think about doing it for THE REST OF YOUR LIFE, it just sucks harder. Can you feel the breeze from all that sucking? I can.

Tomorrow: more walking and laughing and less sucking.

Oh, and I was steady at 116.4 this morning. This is some seriously determined and defensive fat. Hey, I think it likes me, it really likes me!