Sunday, June 10, 2012
Day 294 (Week 42): I Know I Should Walk . . .
And that part worked out well; we're dining at Tryst tomorrow night instead. But then I collapsed in a chair and was lazy, though I did finish The Red Book (don't. read. it.); I didn't clean a single part of my house in preparation for Mom's visit, I didn't take a walk on this beautiful sunny day, I did exactly jack.
Though Martini and I made dinner together, and that was fun. I taught him how to use a bread knife and how to brown butter, and he did very well.
And now here I sit, sated, glutted, tired. I know that I should exercise and that a walk would be just the thing to perk me up. But I cannot summon even the ounce of energy required to change my clothes. It's been a wild week and weekend, I've got another one looming ahead of me, I am thoroughly tuckered out. (Though, again, I think a walk would help. Maybe I'll just keep saying that, as I trudge upstairs, heading toward my sneakers . . .)
My weight was unchanged from last week's weigh-in, which is okay but also a little discouraging, since midweek, when I'm doing back-to-back zumba, I've already hit my 40-pound goal. But on the weekend, when I'm eating fun food and not zumba-ing . . . the scale creeps back up four pounds. But I'm very very close. Yes, I know a walk would help.
And it would also keep me away from those fudge muffins. I've only had two — one at brunch and one just now — but they are insanely good and insanely deadly, there's like two sticks of butter in there. Insane. But oh so good.
Well, I'm heading upstairs now, ostensibly to help my daughter exfoliate her elbows (don't ask). Will I then wander in the direction of my closet? We shall see.
—Lady C, woman of mystery