Where have I been? Sorry, kids, I've been depressed at the lack of progress and I can't write when I'm depressed -- just not feelin' it. I was stuck at 115.8 (my New Digital likey the point eight) for like 3 days. Then yesterday morning, I was 116.2. And this morning I crept up into the 117s even after I took off all my jewelry. I guess that's to be expected after a weekend of pizza, beer, wine and, well stuff. But I am proud to say that, even though it was Halloween and I was surrounded by bags and bags of candy, I had only two little Mounds bars. Okay three. Possibly, and here's where I start to block out the numbers, possibly four. See I was finishing up my mini-burrito on Sunday and wondering if I could have Mounds number 3-possibly-4 (the last one I saved from the kiddies) even though I already had a pre-burrito apple. Hmm. I think you know I went with "Hell Yeah," because I really needed to remove the temptation, and, like pulling the bandaid off a hairy body part, it's best done quickly. So, I took a blogger's-block break and got myself a cheek full of mini-Mounds-bar healthy deliciousness. (I figure they're health food, what with the coconut and all.) Then I found another Mounds bar on my bed this morning -- did I forget to eat one of the previous bars or what? How did it creep into my bed? Don't worry, I didn't let it get away. Hmm, is that 4 or 5?
And did I work out? Not unless you call 7 hours of tree trimming and party prep a workout. I'm sure I burned some calories, but not really the furious fat-burner of a workout I had in mind, especially after I got Ena and Patrick to do the heavy lifting. (You KNOW I love you guys.) Of course, it was all worth it, because my front trees look FABULOUS and were perfect for hanging the sheet so we could watch scary movies while giving out candy to the kiddies. Kudos, by the way, to this year's Halloween participants -- I like it when the parents dress up with the kids -- more fun for everyone. And were the super sweet clown shoes fabulous? Only almost as fabulous as Killer Klowns from Outer Space -- even the 6-year-olds wanted my shoes. Now THAT's class.
So now what? I've actually completed four weeks of this damn diet thing. And I've only lost a few stinkin' pounds, and I think most of that was just the colon cleanse, which, let's admit it, has been the most successful part of this process. Do I quit? Do I give up and sit on the sofa with a glass of pinot and the clicker? (Oh, that reminds me, I'm watching Intervention sans-alcohol. That's a big faux pas. Hang on while I get me a drink.) So I'm back with a cold left-over grilled potato and a glass of champagne. Is that bad, or just really strange? Probably both. But I love potatoes -- grilled, fried, baked, Frenched, hashed, totted, you name it, it's all good. And if you add butter and onions and cheese and maybe some sour cream....uh oh. That's how I got my squidge. So anyway, I was about to rededicate myself to this frickin' weight loss deal. I think I have to give Round 2 to Fat. Alright Fat, well done, good round. But I ain't done yet -- put some of that stuff on my cut, wipe the blood from my eyes, give me a snort of ammonia or whatever, and send me back in. I mean it. I'ma get me some thin. Right after this glass of champagne. Thank God that was the last tater.
And did I work out? Not unless you call 7 hours of tree trimming and party prep a workout. I'm sure I burned some calories, but not really the furious fat-burner of a workout I had in mind, especially after I got Ena and Patrick to do the heavy lifting. (You KNOW I love you guys.) Of course, it was all worth it, because my front trees look FABULOUS and were perfect for hanging the sheet so we could watch scary movies while giving out candy to the kiddies. Kudos, by the way, to this year's Halloween participants -- I like it when the parents dress up with the kids -- more fun for everyone. And were the super sweet clown shoes fabulous? Only almost as fabulous as Killer Klowns from Outer Space -- even the 6-year-olds wanted my shoes. Now THAT's class.
So now what? I've actually completed four weeks of this damn diet thing. And I've only lost a few stinkin' pounds, and I think most of that was just the colon cleanse, which, let's admit it, has been the most successful part of this process. Do I quit? Do I give up and sit on the sofa with a glass of pinot and the clicker? (Oh, that reminds me, I'm watching Intervention sans-alcohol. That's a big faux pas. Hang on while I get me a drink.) So I'm back with a cold left-over grilled potato and a glass of champagne. Is that bad, or just really strange? Probably both. But I love potatoes -- grilled, fried, baked, Frenched, hashed, totted, you name it, it's all good. And if you add butter and onions and cheese and maybe some sour cream....uh oh. That's how I got my squidge. So anyway, I was about to rededicate myself to this frickin' weight loss deal. I think I have to give Round 2 to Fat. Alright Fat, well done, good round. But I ain't done yet -- put some of that stuff on my cut, wipe the blood from my eyes, give me a snort of ammonia or whatever, and send me back in. I mean it. I'ma get me some thin. Right after this glass of champagne. Thank God that was the last tater.
Happy to help with the heavy lifting. Makes me feel a *lot* better about all the Hershey's Halloween miniatures that I just purchased for 1/2-off at Safeway (by Gawd, it's chocolate, and I don't care what the wrapper looks like!) - oh yeah!
ReplyDeleteSteve had a fantabulous time, and, yes, the shoes are super sweet! (You know Steve covets them.)
My scale has not been talkin' pretty to me, either. The scale needs a time out... or I need to shut my pie hole. I put the chocolate into my lighthouse cookie jar that blares like a foghorn whenever I open it - this is supposed to discourage me. So far, it's not really having the desired effect.
You cannot speak of pie holes and sassy scales when I KNOW you're running like 30 miles a week to prep for a Marathon. I don't care how funny you and your foghorn cookie jar are, I'm not buying it, skinny beeotch! Eat three bags of chocolate bars with a bottle of champagne in front of Bravo or A&E (your choice) a couple nights in a row and then we'll talk.
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