My husband and I, along with a group of our friends, are starting a new workout program. Mind you, this is not a New Year's resolution, because I think New Year's resolutions are incredibly lame. Or maybe I just always fail at them, so I have a negative attitude.
Either way, today was to be "Day 1" of our new program. This morning started out just swimmingly, Steve waking up with the flu and all. So we didn't work out this morning. But alas, there are 24 hours in a day, at least 6 of which I spend awake, so be ye not despondent for my fat-less future.
I skipped breakfast and went to the office. My friend at work had a certain relative visiting from out of town (that's what I'll call it for my male readers, you're welcome) and needed comfort food something fierce. So she said we had to have Apollo Burger and I swear to you I did not have a choice in the matter. Out of the kindness of my heart, I had a bacon cheeseburger and some onion rings and a coke (not diet, that fake sugar is complete trash for you). After lunch, I told myself this just means my workout tonight had to be extra long and difficult. This type of sacrifice comes only from the deepest well of friendship and charity.
Came home from work and had chicken, cheese, and potato chips for dinner. Oh, and a Sierra Mist. So at this point I decide my workout needs to be excruciating.
Our friend, Karl, came over so the three of us could take our measurements, weight, and "before" pictures, and BOY HOWDY have I been in denial about my back yard. And my front yard. And my side yards, of which I have 3. Seeing my measurements on paper pained me greatly, so when I had to go up 14 stairs to grab my camera cord for the laptop, I went ahead and sure did go up to the 2nd floor as well, thus adding an additional 16 steps to my repertoire for the evening. Take that, bacon cheeseburger. Take that, homestyle french fries and pink-sauce.
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