Tuesday, December 27, 2011
Day 130: Back in the Saddle Again
(Yes, I know I'm mixing my metaphors.)
I launched my day with great vim and vigor. First, I logged my healthy breakfast on Fat Secret and was filled with a sense of virtue. Next, I put away all my Christmas presents, sealed the deadly Scotchies in Tupperware camouflage, and took a vigorous walk on my treadmill. Since I wanted to work out a little with Mimosa, I elected for a shorter, faster treadmill walk and did half an hour at a pace much quicker than my usual one, so after 30 minutes I was a limp, wet noodle. But I soldiered on, and Mimosa and I lifted weights, then she showed me various ways she works her core in karate, including The Plank, Superman, and The Mountain Climber. I couldn't do any of them longer than 10 seconds (see "noodle, limp, wet"), so tomorrow I will skip the treadmill walk and only do the Mimosa Workout. It will be swell.
But then my day got a little busier. I jumped into the bathtub right after lunch (I was afraid I'd given myself shin splints with the faster pace — oh! and I forgot to mention: I actually jogged for about two minutes! But no, Good Neighbor Anne, I am not going to be your running buddy any time soon), because I thought a hot soak would be preventive; then took the kids to diving lessons; then, after spending two hours watching them swim and updating my 2012 calendar (it's astounding how much stuff is already scheduled!! My future is purple with ink!!), I realized I was ravenous, and we headed to our local Mexican joint for dinner . . . from which we went straight to the [incredibly boring]* Hanukkah party, and then to see Hugo in 3D (which was nine kinds of awesome).
It was a great day, full of family togetherness and happy memories, all those things a vacation day should be — but I was not a poster child for the Weight Loss Effort, I fear.
Tomorrow may well be more of the same. I will work out with Mimosa in the morning, but then I'm meeting Mrs. Brunhildecrow for a movie (My Week With Marilyn) and dinner at our beloved Chianti, where we order the most butter-, fat-, and cheese-drenched item on the menu (Pumpkin Tortellini with Gorgonzola Sauce), eat every bit of it, and then lick our plates to get the last dregs.
(On occasion I do exaggerate for effect, but this is not one of those times.)
Well, I will do my best to be mindful and make good choices. What else can I do?
Time for bed, I've been yawning since 4:30. Good night!
* I really like the friends who host the party, I just don't like their hosting style. But they would be hurt, I think, if we didn't make an appearance, so we make an appearance.
Over the years I've tried to engage their other guests in conversation, but either the word "Gentile" stamped on my forehead or some other wacky goyische thing I'm doing, who knows, no one at this party is interested in talking to me. And I can get through anything with enough wine, but our hostess keeps the alcohol hidden and only gives you some when you ask her. How weird is that???
So, just to review: The food is limited and dull, the guests are not friendly, and there is no readily available wine. Happy Hanukkah!