Where to begin? I took my squidge out for QuAF (quite a few) drinks last night. Not the original goal. I overshot that about 7:30. Went to a benefit for a shelter for senior abuse victims. They had blacksmiths actually smithing and selling their smithery. So I had barbecue and a bunch of "mini-wines," and I wound up with a bracelet, a necklace, a wall hook, a pot rack, and a knife that could do some serious damage -- the guy who made it mentioned "disemboweling" (I'm thinking about keeping it by the bed, if any burglars are reading my blog). And after that, we put my 50 pounds of metal in Ena's trunk and went looking for MFBS (that's Michelle, Frank, Barb and Scott -- my new favorite acronym, because, HELLOOO, it's got MF and BS in it!) at some cowboy bar in Cave Creek. Well, if you've ever been to Cave Creek, you know they have QuAF Cowboy bars. Which is how we wound up at Howard's Corral. Howard's corral is pretty large. Howard had a fine band, plenty of fine beverages, a large white taxidermified bull with his tail duct-taped onto his bull butt (apparently drunk people swat at the poor bull's tail, which seems kind of unsporting to me), and some technically-challenged cowboys operating the bull-photo printer. But I managed to get a photo of my squidge and I on the bull, and will insert it in this blog as soon as I figure out how to scan and upload it. Hope you will love it as much as I do! Please note the effort to dress for the occassion -- TOTALLY Western bag hung casually from Bull's right horn, metro-ranchy duster jacket, and the Miss Sixty boots that Rachel Zoe recommended on PiperLime, because I was feeling them more than my cowboy boots when I got dressed yesterday -- will have to dust them off later. And let me just mention that some guys look HOT in cowboy hats (some unusually tiny guys wearing sunglasses at night, not so much), and I may have to go back to Cave Creek with the ladies some night. Like a road trip. Well, not even LIKE a road trip, because it IS a road trip. Let's all thank Ena for driving. I'm glad I'M not jogging 18 miles today -- I'm about to strap on the tennies for a walk, and I will look for you about lap 6 Ena.
We will get to weight in a minute. The bull stuff at Howard's followed Girl's Night In, which involved Katie and Cathy and their girls (who are too young and impressionable to be reading my middle-aged-adult diet blog, and therefore will not be mentioned by name) and avacado face masks, mani-pedis, pizza, popcorn, the Hannah Montana movie, wine, karaoke, and French toast. Lord, I TRY to be good. But pizza, French toast and wine won't let me. It's NOT my fault.
So I didn't even bother to weigh myself yesterday. This morning I'm looking at -- HOLY Sh!t!!! -- 114.8! Now I KNOW that new scale lies!!! And I weighed myself twice to be sure. Picture me totally rubbing my bloodshot eyes. Must be a delayed reaction from all of last week's diet and exercise. Let's say it again, now: one, fourteen, point eight!!!! Wow, that's excellent!! The 115 barrier has been broken! Apparently the secret is to work really hard and then binge. I don't even have to feel guilty about being bad. Who knew? This is just awesome. Makes me wanna dance with the dog before I even go for a walk. Hall-eh-frickin-loo-ya.
Well, I was all prepared to piss and moan about how weekends are totally wrecking my diet and weight loss thing and keeping me from being the skinniest 47 yo I can be. And now some of my best material is unusable! And I don't care. Maybe next weekend.
We will get to weight in a minute. The bull stuff at Howard's followed Girl's Night In, which involved Katie and Cathy and their girls (who are too young and impressionable to be reading my middle-aged-adult diet blog, and therefore will not be mentioned by name) and avacado face masks, mani-pedis, pizza, popcorn, the Hannah Montana movie, wine, karaoke, and French toast. Lord, I TRY to be good. But pizza, French toast and wine won't let me. It's NOT my fault.
So I didn't even bother to weigh myself yesterday. This morning I'm looking at -- HOLY Sh!t!!! -- 114.8! Now I KNOW that new scale lies!!! And I weighed myself twice to be sure. Picture me totally rubbing my bloodshot eyes. Must be a delayed reaction from all of last week's diet and exercise. Let's say it again, now: one, fourteen, point eight!!!! Wow, that's excellent!! The 115 barrier has been broken! Apparently the secret is to work really hard and then binge. I don't even have to feel guilty about being bad. Who knew? This is just awesome. Makes me wanna dance with the dog before I even go for a walk. Hall-eh-frickin-loo-ya.
Well, I was all prepared to piss and moan about how weekends are totally wrecking my diet and weight loss thing and keeping me from being the skinniest 47 yo I can be. And now some of my best material is unusable! And I don't care. Maybe next weekend.
Update: Tried to dance with the cat before my walk. She didn't get it. The dog smiles his doggy smile and wags his furry butt and says "Hey, this is cool! What're we doin' again? Oh, who cares, let's dance, baby!" The cat, on the other hand, swiveled her radar ears at me then cranked 'em back in alarm, her eyes got huge and she shifted her weight to flee in case my spasms became any more threatening. Cats. What're you gonna do? I guess scare the heck out of 'em.
I walked 55 minutes today. Kickin' my own fat ass.
Congrats on the sub-115, girlfriend! The fat continues to amaze, no? You do everything right and nada but inhale a nuclear winter supply of "mini" wines, ride a sad, stuffed bull (with the taped on tail) and, voila! The fat disappears. We are not to question the all-knowing fat.
ReplyDeleteHappy to provide limo service to IronPalooza. Now, I've gotta find my witch hat for our next drink-fest.
P.S. The photo it totally 'fridge-worthy.
ReplyDelete