“You should give up hamburgers for Lent.”
“Why on earth would I do that?”
“Well, I’m giving up something bad for me, so you should too. Be supportive.”
“I’m giving up smoking.”
“You don’t bloody smoke!”
“See? I’ve improved myself already.”
– C. and J.
I’m at a loss. New Year, the time for such bursts of ardent revamping passed without so much as a guilty twinge. The number on the scale creeping upwards gave me pause, but not enough. The subtle tightening of my trousers was acknowledged, but then dismissed (though oddly enough my shirts displayed no such variance). No no, friends. What gets C. back into the gym, swearing off junk food and dedicating herself anew to salads?
Of course I’m not going down by myself so J. has been bugged, hounded, and generally harassed until he agreed to give up Mountain Dew (though not all sodas, he would like it noted). He’s also being dragged to the gym with me to keep me on the straight and narrow. I got on an elliptical machine today for the first time in six months and clocked nearly three miles before doing a half hour of weights, so I forsee the traditional Lenten feelings approaching tomorrow: sorrow, remorse, and reliance on prayer to get one through.
I’m already craving sugar. Keep me strong, friends!
“Remember, Ginger Rogers did everything Fred Astaire did, but backwards and in high heels.”
Thank goodness we’ve moved into colder weather, where my work wardrobe can do me some good! However, it has been brought to my attention that looking nice at work can have some unforeseen consequences. Apart from the expanding waistline (that comes from less exercise)…wearing some sort of heel everyday has apparently given my calves such a workout that they are getting bigger. To the point that my nice boots are snug!
“Come on, you heifer! What does not kill us makes us hotter!”
-Legally Blonde, The Musical
After two months out of commission, I am back at the gym with Venice. And I mean it this time. Why? Because Ven has imposed the mother of all weight loss incentives: no shopping until we hit our target weights.
This means no new cardies, boots, hats, tights, trousers, jackets, NOTHING. And Fall is upon us, THE season for the best and cutest of clothes. You want to see a pair of wannabe recessionistas whip it into shape? Dangle their credit cards in front of them while they huff and puff on a treadmill.
“Is it bad that I want Thai food for every meal of my life?”
“No, Thai is the food of the gods, although we should probably shake it up with Italian just to keep our carb quotas up.”
-Venice and C.
Not only did we take my younger brother Gio and his friend to Tucanos (amazing and amazingly expensive Brazillian food place) this weekend, J. and I also cooked up a storm in our tiny little kitchen. After perusing some of the (millions of) cookbooks people heaped upon us for our wedding, I created a rather ambitious list of new recipes to try. I kicked off my experiment sunday with pan seared salmon with a mango salsa topping. And it was rather impressive, or so I think. J. was ordered to be ultra-enthusiastic whatever the outcome so I may not have had an entirely accurate reading…
We also stocked up on cookies and banana bread so I have a new found reason to recommit to the gym. Gym psychology is fickle. I spent six months busting my bum five days a week, and then six days doing wedding and honeymoon stuff and poof! My gym motivation evaporated. Forcing myself there everyday has been a horrid, horrid chore. Eating all my delicious (or maybe not so delicious, but if it isn’t don’t tell me!) food seems much easier than working it off!
“Whenever a woman asks me ‘What’s the best way to lose weight?’ I tell her, ‘Get engaged.'”
Yes, folks, my caloric intake is down and my amount of time at the gym is up. My sleep is heavy and my morning yogurt is “light.” My waistline is in and my muscles are out (in a sleek, feminine sort of way). Barring any mental breakdown and the metric ton of brownies that I would medically require to get over it, roll on July 1!
In other wedding news, Catriona helped me get started on invitations and announcements last saturday, so my stress level in that department has bottomed out, bless her! We threw on Some Like it Hot, I addressed (my handwriting is still awful) and she stuffed envelopes and stamped. With the list much shorter now, life seems so much more bearable.
And in weddings other than my own, good grief! It seems like I get an invitation to a reception, shower, or hen night every day! J. and I went to Marie’s sister’s reception last week, his best friend is getting married this weekend, Kays is getting married the weekend after that, and I get a brief reprive the week after that (unless you count my final dress fitting-which will hopefully be angst free as long as those brownies aren’t required!).