I am still sick. Why am I still sick? Because the Baby Jesus hates me. That’s why.
I had fooled myself into thinking that maybe I could look on the bright side and maybe I was losing weight, quarts at a time, but then my sister mentioned that she’s been sick since August and hasn’t lost an ounce. So much for that. I’m still not really hungry for anything, but I was able to get somewhat excited about some butternut squash ravioli last night. Which then set off some kind of horrible carb craving chain of events–two hours later I was convinced that if I didn’t have a hot fudge sundae, I was going to die.
I didn’t die.
Because I went out and got a hot fudge sundae.
I didn’t want to risk it. Luckily, I’m off the unbalanced carb horse at the moment, mostly because there are no carbs in water.
Speaking of hot fudge sundaes, I have been thinking about joining a gym. Well, truthfully, I have been thinking about it for four years. It always comes down to the fact that I can have all the self-esteem in the world but as soon as I put on work out clothes and walk into a room full of hard bodies, I am mentally transported to 10th grade gym class. Say what you will about high school golden years, but 10th grade? Wasn’t one of them. So I counter that with the fact that I will avoid feeling all ishy if I just use the money to buy a treadmill instead. After all, for a year of avoiding the gym, I could avoid a large piece of machinery in my house instead.
I’m all about convenience.
I forgot to mention a rather big fat deal on this here page, which is the fact that Mopie and Anne have asked me to join them as a contributor on Big Fat Deal. It’s a great honor to be in such fabulous company. Of course, it’s no secret about how much I adore Mopie and I love Anne equally as much.
I’ve only tongue kissed one of them, though.
