The New Health Regime officially took over my life this morning.
So here I am, trying not to think about
good unhealthy foods and trying to stay mildly active so my metabolism doesn’t plummet.
Thus far, I’ve:
* Exercised by literally running around the house while doing laundry, housework and dishes, and tried to erase my mental picture of how ridiculous I must have looked while doing said activities
* Measured my waist and don’t want to talk about it
* Grabbed a Hershey Kiss out of the candy bowl accidentally and caught myself
too soon just in time (Yes, I’m owning the fact that this incident took place at 9:20 in the a.m.)
* Replaced candy bowl with bowl of apples. It’s not at all the same. And bigger is so not better.
* Stocked the fridge with excessive amounts of diet pop
* Convinced my son to try to eat all the leftover pizza in the fridge that keeps talking to me in my language. He didn’t eat it all, so now he’s grounded.
* Drank so much water this morning that I gained a pound
* Noticed an immediate increase in my frequency of talking to myself, so I’m contemplating erasing my next month’s worth of social events and doing all errands at 3 a.m. when stores are virtually empty
On the marital front, LCB emerged from his office at 10:27 a.m. genuinely lamenting the fact that he had not lost any weight yet.
That man loses weight just talking about losing weight. He knows this too, so he talks about it incessantly. And I don’t mean incessantly by normal person standards. I mean incessantly even by Loquacious Cabana Boy (LCB) standards.
This is why he stops being my friend when we do this.
I’m trying to ignore him, but it’s rather difficult to ignore someone significantly larger and more animated than I am who continues to speak, mostly right in my face.
There he just went again, as I write. There’s no need to ever make this stuff up, because it just keeps happening. And happening. And happening.
Guess I’ll go off in a corner somewhere and just talk to myself.