Do you remember the bathing suit project? I was off to a running start. Working out several times a week, eating pretty good, cleansing my liver, and then…
Yesterday, which began innocuously enough, culminated in a marathon of 15 mini cupcakes, 10 Oreos, an In n’ Out Burger, three orders of fries, a vanilla shake, and a hardboiled egg.
None of that is exaggerated for comic relief.
Yesterday also was comprised of the following:
One (1) fight with my little brother.
One (1) ugly cry.
One (1) “you don’t love me!” to my husband.
Three (3) uterine twinges.
And the aforementioned 18 pounds of consumed food products.
Despite the above, I managed to not suck Father’s Day up for The Rock, who spent much of the morning and afternoon golfing. When he checked in to say “hi,” I began to violently cry and weirdly enough, he didn’t come home until five. So I made his favorite meal of pork chops in mushroom gravy and promised to take pills that destroy my hormones forever.
Before the PMS deluge, I took my first XTend Barre class on Saturday and I adored it. Of course, I was not the least bit ambulatory afterward, so I profusely thanked the woman next to me who disinfected my yoga mat with an “I really appreciate that, because I can’t move.” Still, it was a good paralyzing pain and I really think that if I can get myself to class three times a week for the next month, I’ll see some real results.
…And my bathing suit will forget that those 15 mini cupcakes ever happened.
I hope your weekends were less self-absorbed and fatty!