Remember my post on January 22nd about how I gained a bale of hay? Well guess what? I’ve started to lose some of that bale of hay. How do I know? Let me count the ways:
I can actually get my wedding bands off without the use of motor oil.
When I sit, people don’t rush up to me asking when the bakery opens.
I now only have enough chins to share with 1 other person instead of 4. Sorry people. I am a registered organ donor, not a body part donor.
I can fit a kitten in my bra, WITH my boobs in it.
On the subject of bras…they now ride up on me. Even on the tightest setting. That poses a real problem at My Retail Job.
I no longer need a shoe horn to get into my jeans.
When I walk across the floor, objects don’t fall off the dresser.
I haven’t been mistaken for a Chicago Bears Linebacker from behind in quite some time now.
There is a dot of light coming through between the upper part of my thighs. Enough to light the head of a pin. But light just the same.
My arms stop waving about 3 seconds sooner than before.
It would seem that I have lost the size of a bowling ball that is used by an average adult male. I don’t know. I think that’s pretty cool. And that bowling ball is staying where it belongs…in the lane, the alley, the gutter. Wherever. Just not on me. I’m good with that. I’m happy with that. So happy, I could go bowling.
Eat more fruits and veggies – If you count wine as a fruit, then resolution partially achieved. If not, then….no.
Eat less – Actually I’ve stopped grazing like a damn cow all day. Ok, maybe I haven’t stopped exactly. Let’s just say I’ve decreased the grazing a bit. That is less, right?
Exercise more – I should rephrase that to say “exercise.” I went for a walk on January 30th. Unless I continue to do so, that would be a big fat N-O.
Lose weight – Since I basically failed at 3, 4 and 5, I guess it’s obvious what the answer is to #6.
About 3 years ago, I stopped making new year’s resolutions. Because this is what inevitably happens. I barely make it past day #1. I guess because my list looks about the same every year and let’s face it, this girl likes her food. And more than 1/2 of my resolutions pretty much involve food or the act of reducing food.
But this year was going to be different. I was so sick of walking by those damn store mirrors and catching a glimpse of myself and being startled because that woman looks like me but couldn’t possibly be. What I really should have as a resolution is to stop looking at myself in store mirrors. Stupid store mirrors. Those suckers ought to make us look like we lost 10 pounds, not gained 10 pounds.
So, instead of tossing the entire list out the window, I am going to start again today. I’ll let you know how I’m doing in a month. Do Bloody Mary’s count as a veggie?
No, not a groupIE — a rock band following floozy. But a groupER — a bottom feeding fish. That’s how I like to describe myself these days. I believe that is one of the reasons why I have gained a bale of hay…55 pounds…since this:
DH, the kid and I went to a local BBQ place for lunch over the weekend. This is what we ordered:
That was just for starters. For my main meal, I ordered a pulled pork sandwich with sweet potato fries. The kid ordered a pulled pork sandwich with regular fries, but that doesn’t matter. She’s 14.
DH ordered a small cup of chili. That is why I can bounce a quarter off his ass AND his stomach. Even though he is old. Even though he is middle-aged. Because he is not a grouper, he is a guppy.
There was this left over:
1/4 of a potato skin
2 onion rings
1 small pile of sweet potato fries
DH hates leftovers. They pretty much repulse him. Me? There are starving children in Ethiopia and I cannot, will not, throw anything away. Well, unless it starts to look like a science project and even then I have a problem with it.
So against hubby’s wishes I told the server to wrap it all up. That was Saturday. Yesterday was Monday. DH tried to toss out my leftovers twice but I caught him and threatened bodily harm.
So I ate this for lunch to save it’s life:
Even though I wasn’t hungry. If I didn’t, it would go into the garbage and I couldn’t live with myself. I guess that explains why I look like this now:
All because I can’t throw away food. Ok, I’ll say it…I’m middle aged too. I know that doesn’t help. I also know I’ll never have that 23 year old body again. But come on. A bale of hay?