Back in the saddle again....

Hey, y'all, a favorite blogger of mine has returned to his online chronicles. Welcome back to the land of the blogging, Chuck.

Speaking of getting back to normal, Yours Truly has got to get a grip. Against my better judgement, I got on the scales this morning and learned that I have gained four pounds. And the digital scale does not lie, not like the old-fashioned ones that our moms used that could be manipulated into thinking you're five pounds lighter than you actually are. Now, four pounds may not seem like a whole lot, and truth be told I haven't noticed a difference (yet) in the way my clothes fit, but you know how four pounds can turn into five and then ten and then you're back at Square One. And I knew it would be unhappy news when I stepped on the scale, because of the way I have been feeling lately (read: bloated, restive, cranky) and the way I have been treating myself lately (read: flannel pj's and pans of warm brownies). So yeah, no big surprise there.

Add to that the remarks made recently by Spawn and my husband that suggest to me that my backside isn't as small as I previously believed. A six-year-old has no guile. However, a forty-one-year-old does, and no matter how much he professes to like the size of my butt it still does not endear him to me.

~sigh~ I know what it is I have to do, but I just don't want to do it right now.

I have given myself a deadline, though. We are two weeks from Mardi Gras and subsequently Lent, and I intend to arrive at Fat Tuesday having enjoyed these two weeks to the fullest before donning the sackcloth and ashes. I'll start off Ash Wednesday with the hairshirt of sensible diet and (gasp!) no alcohol, and ride it through 40 days. Good for the soul, no?

This is my plan. Maybe not a good one, but a plan nonetheless.




--Mox