I got down on the floor this morning. There it was, hiding under my dresser – my scale.
I brushed away the dust, Indiana Jones like. I think it saw me coming and shuddered. I got on it and there was much crying and gnashing of teeth. I cried, too.
It’s bad, folks. Really bad. Out of control bad. The diet starts NOW bad. I saw a picture of myself on Saturday and died a little inside. Yick. I’m so ashamed of myself. It took a lot of steaks and fine wine to get here. Now it’s going to take a lot of carrots and celery to get it back off.
So, here’s the plan:
- Join the gym.
- Write down what I am eating each day.
- No sweets – at least for the first week. Then the one sweet rule applies.
- Nothing fried. Ever again.
- YOU help keep me honest.
Give me the stink eye. Ask me if I went to the gym. Demand progress reports. Join me and let’s form a team.
I’m off to the pool…