I’m just not sure why, with all of this lack of exercising and not much eating and drinking in moderation, I haven’t dropped this fluffy cupcake top. (Have I mentioned the amazing chardonnay I had here last night? Holy cannoli it was good. Buttery delish.) Yes, cupcake top. Not muffin top. This reduction of square footage in my jeans that made walking to work today in a ridiculous post-summer heat wave feel like my legs were trapped in three layers of moist sausage casings is most definitely a result of dessert thrice a day including but not limited to cupcakes, quiches, croissants, and the most amazing ice cream you will ever eat in one sitting. And divine pumpkin bread pudding, also from here. Skirts and dresses all summer did me wrong because I went without the 3-day-a-week jean habit to keep me in check. I just need to fall in love, get dumped or maybe contract a mild case of stomach flu (no swine, thanks) where I puke in my food dish like my cat just did to lose the offending LBs.
This is all neither here nor there—except that dating when you’re feeling all plumpy is the pits. So I will go to the gym.
[47 minutes later]
Phew. That was a a great workout. Cardio for 30 minutes and not 1/10 of a hot second longer—check. Ogled the cute guy with long blond mane (trust me, it works on him)—check. Avoided running into hot guy who kissed good but is possibly stunted at 13 years old—check. Lost 5 pounds—check.
That would be cool though.
I’m thinking puppet show for my next post. I think you’re going to like it. A lot.