An email I sent today:
Sent: Thursday, December 15, 2011 9:05 AM
Subject: Two Quick Things
#1: Between Thanksgiving and getting LOTS of birthday cake over the past two weeks, I have gained back approximately 6 pounds. NOT COOL.
#2: Someone left an unopened box of Christmas cookies at my house this weekend, presumably because they’re a jerk and want to tease me with goodies. Considering the situation listed in Item#1 above, this is a problem. I have brought them to work today and they are at my desk. PLEASE EAT THESE COOKIES SO I DO NOT HAVE TO TAKE THEM HOME WITH ME.
Thanks and Merry Christmas!
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Obviously, by this email you can tell that I’ve fallen off the wagon. I’m attempting to get back in the swing of things before my a$$ is the size of a… well, a WAGON.
I can’t blame anyone but myself for this: no one forced me to shove barbecue, cheezits, birthday cake and *gasp* FRENCH TOAST CASSEROLE in my mouth repeatedly over the past two weeks. That was all on me, and now I have to work to get back to where I was.
So I’m purging my household of holiday goodies: cakes, holiday breads, cookies, the like. It’s all gotta go.
What’s tough though is the act that Casey the Roomie’s parents are coming to visit this weekend, and his mama is like a freaking Christmas snack guru. I’ll come home in the afternoon and the entire kitchen will be laden with every conceivable holiday snack ever created, most of which are covered in chocolate, sugar or salt. And they’re all so very tasty. J
BBE has be sucked into this “Couch to 5K” program, or “C25K” for short. It’s intended to get slackers like myself up and learning to jog/ run in 3 months, and be ready for a 5k at the end of it. HA! I ain’t running no freaking 5K, but it would be awesome to learn how to just run, like more than 60 seconds without huffing and puffing like I’m having an asthmatic attack. So far we’ve only done it 3 times. The first time was not so bad, the second time was AWFUL. By then end, he was dragging me along the path because my legs had given up the fight. I was whimpering and crying like a spoiled brat being dragged away from the toy aisle, only my toy was a BENCH to sit my WAGON-SIZED A$$ on.
The third time was yesterday morning, and it wasn’t as bad as the first two. It’s still not fun, but I’m starting to get the hang of it. We are going running again on Saturday morning, and he’ll probably have to use both feet to shove me out of the bed, and then get a crowbar to pry my fingers away from the mattress, but hey, at least I’m working on it! Right?!
Whatevs, I can rise above this. I can do it! I just gotta get rid of these effing cookies first…
(by the way some of my Atlanta friends visited this weekend and went running with me and the BBE… my own little jogging club!)