This morning the body broke the 140 barrier for the first time: down to 139.1 pounds! w00t!
Sounds great, doesn’t it? Yeah. It did at 5:30 this morning.
Then it was off to Scottsdale for the Thursday ayem shindig at The Good Egg.
There’s a problem with The Good Egg: there’s nothing to eat there. If you can’t eat eggs (urp!!! ….literally, and immediately) and you’re trying to hold your blood pressure down by not eating stuff with salt in it and you’re trying to keep the weight down by abstaining from breads and pancakes and English muffins and you’re not eating sugary stuff like sweetened yogurt, there’s nothing to eat there! As usual, I ordered a bowl of fruit, which as usual came out soggy and uninspiring, and drank a lot of bad coffee.
By the time I got home around 9 a.m., I was so hungry I decided I would forget the piss-poor packaged berries garnished with half a banana and move on a full meal. Had a piece of steak in the freezer but was low on veggies, so drove back out to the store and picked up some delicious broccolini and…yes! Some lovely little red new potatoes! Cooked all this stuff on the grill, and what the hell…the sun was over the yardarm somewhere, so opened a bottle of wine and had a couple of snorts of that to wash down the feast.
Figured to eat salad the rest of the day. That actually is a routine that’s been working: cook up a great, fairly large meal for breakfast (sans the wine chaser) and then eat really light from then on.
What I didn’t figure on was M’hijito calling at quittin’ time to invite me out for Mexican food.
Now, you’d think a grown woman with will power could resist that siren call, wouldn’t you? No. There’s just no way I’m going to turn down an invitation from my wonderful son to go out to dinner. And once seated at our favorite hole in the wall, the chances of turning down chips, salsa, beer, a relleno stuffed with melted cheese, a side of refried beans, and another beer are exactly nil.
Nil, nil, nil! And soooooo good!
It’s nine p.m., and I’m still so stuffed I can barely wriggle. And I suppose we could have some sort of lottery betting on how fat I’ll be by tomorrow ayem!
The early-morning meeting put the eefus on the vigorous swim before the carcinogenic sun comes up. At noon it was so freaking hot and humid in the house that I decided to risk death and take a plunge in the pool at high noon.
And that’s when I realized something: jumping off the side and splashing around in the deep end while the dog races back and forth yapping is play. Locking the dog in the house and swimming twice the length of the pool 33 times is work.
Which, presumably, is why I’m finding it difficult to make myself do that once or twice a day. Work is just not my thing.
Not that it wasn’t pleasant enough swimming up and down by moonlight this evening. Just…that it’s work.