Day 28 (Down for the Count)

Ugh. Grr. Sigh.

Yes, I'm moaning. Yes, I'm whining. Yes, I'm being a pathetic little baby.

But I'm sick. =(

First, Coop was sick. Then Chris got it. And, yes, now on the eve of my third day on the job, my throat feels like it's made of razor blades and my chest vacilates between millions of pin pricks and the firey flames of hell.

Crap.

So what does this mean for my diet??? Um, doesn't it say in the mommy handbook circa 1953 that you should stuff a cold to the gills? I'm pretty sure that it does. On page 27, paragraph 3, just after the section on "Times When Justification is OK."

Anywhoo, to play catch-up, Saturday night I celebrated the final turn of my 20s with a girls' night. Which, inevitably, led to a girls' day (think crawling into bed at 5:30 Sunday morning. Oops.)

I actually did pretty well on not chowing down (hello, that would be a total buzz kill) and the chicas and I danced our fannies off. So, I'm sure had I not given into the insatiable hangover munchies at Cheesecake Factory on Sunday afternoon (my actual b-day), I would have done fan-friggin'-tastic.


But I did. So I didn't. Whatev.

Yesterday was my first day at the new job and I'm still trying to figure out how this whole workout thing is going to fit into my schedule now that words like commute, traffic and exhaustion are again in my vocabulary.

But, I think I'll wait until the flames in my chest fizzle to mere embers before giving it serious thought. Otherwise I'll just get seriously bummed about my obvious lack of progress.

Dosen't it just suck monkeys when life interferes with your plans???

Anywhoo, on a sidenote, I was so excited when I donned my newly purchased outfit for girls' night, but my self-esteem bubble burst when I saw the pics (click on the Pardon Our Poo link at right for the photographic goods, post "Ladies' Night"). Ummm, eeewww!

First of all, if you EVER want to feel like you look good, do not and I REPEAT do not go out with two of your most tiny-waisted, big-boobed gal pals who happen to also dress incredibly well! That's just a prozac moment waiting to happen. Second, if you break rule one, don't do it on YOUR birthday. Third, if you break rules one and two, avoid all mirrors and ban all cameras from the evening's festivities. At least this way, in your head, you'll still look amazing and no reflective surface or paparrazzi-style pic can prove otherwise!



Look who's arse is as big as the friggin' piano! Oh, well, at least I'm a "work in progress." Just s-l-o-w progress.



Hey, boozy, put your chicken wings down. Nobody, and I mean nobody , needs to see that!