Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Day 131: My Bossypants Daughter
O. U. C. H.
That is the sound of every muscle in my body crying, a little.
We lifted weights and exhausted our biceps and triceps. Then we worked our cores in 90 different ways, and I am completely humbled by my limber, bendy teenager, who barks orders at me like a drill sergeant and looks at me with scornful pity when I can't do what she does. Then we did leg lifts, for outer thighs and inner thighs and then that one muscle that Jane Fonda advises me to work but that I swear I don't actually have in my body, because I've been doing this lift for years and it has never once gotten any easier. We did 30 of everything else but only 10 of that one because it is agony.
And then I sat still and whimpered.
(I did 30 of those.)
But things perked up after that. I headed north to the Great Mall of Danvers with the intention of exchanging some Christmas presents. Alas, this mall had only one of the stores I needed (Target), but I managed to fill the excess pre-movie time with a glass(es) of wine and a little snack in a mall cafe while I read my excellent book, Started Early, Took the Dog.
I wasn't going to tell you what my "little snack" was, but, heck, we have no secrets.
I had some fried pickles.
I also had carrot and celery sticks "so I don't die," I told the waitress, who laughed at me — but, yes, I ate a small basket of fried pickles.
And they were goooooood.
Then Brunie and I watched My Week With Marilyn, which is a perfectly fine movie, and Michelle Williams killed. And then we had our lovely Chianti meal and talked fast and furious. She is a dear and wonderful friend, despite her over-the-top love for the Chinese and her hatred of the earth.
Another lovely vacation day, in other words.
And because I had wine at lunch, I didn't have it at dinner, and I only had a half-portion of the World's Most Amazing Sauce (Pasta Included), and again, while this won't make the Top 10 of the Diet Hit Parade, I've had worse days.
And my weight was down by two pounds this morning (from the Christmas high), so at least my body knows I'm trying.
I expect to be back to "normal" by the end of the week, just in time for the New Year. (Though we celebrate New Year's Eve by, what else, eating and drinking to excess . . . well, we'll see.)
Off to the tub with my excellent book!
(You know, I didn't get a single bottle of bubble bath for Christmas. I'll have to steal some of Mimosa's; she got, like, seven.)