That's so wrong.
I realize I am not twenty-something anymore, but I've also recently come to the conclusion that being closer to forty (*cough*) than thirty means that I can't eat salads and cereal for a couple of weeks and drop five or ten pounds. That big noisy thing with the rotary belt - yeah, the treadmill - doesn't cause the pounds to fall off just being in the house . . . dang it. "Aging gracefully" is for people in their sixties and seventies, but cankles in one's forties is just bad news.
I love sushi and merlot, but I'm a fan of cupcakes too. That's a problem :)
I recently read in another blog the suggestion that adoptive parents should focus on a project while waiting for their adoption stork. We've got a bedroom to prepare, a house to sell, funds to raise (enter plug for our adoption gift registry and the fabulous coaching from Kelly Ellison:
but perhaps a diet isn't such a bad idea. (I apologize for the four letter word.) I have long said that I want to be an example for my children, and packing on the pounds while I multi-task my way through this journey is not what I had in mind.
Nothing like a public proclamation of intentions to jump-start one's behavior modification. Eek.
On the bright side, a few pounds less than this and my Wild Olive Tees will be fittin' fine! (Oops, there I go again:
It's so unfair that I'm trying to put weight onto my six year old . . . couldn't I just donate a few pounds?!
Thank God the kids have Eric's metabolism and not mine. They have no idea what a blessing that is.
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