Sometimes I have absolutely no problem with my extra curvy self. Sometimes I will walk by the large bathroom mirror one more time, just to pause and pose and smirk. These moments usually involve a black lace bra and curly hair. And by sometimes I mean tonight.
But then I stepped on the scale I keep in front of the bathroom counter (obsessive, moi?) and realized I am up 18 pounds since I left town a month ago. Eighteen pounds. What is that, a toddler? But then I realized I have had one 12 ounce can of Diet Pepsi and two 44 ouncers of Diet Pepsi and two 44 ouncers of water and my bladder contends with my liver for larger organ. And then I realize I am actually only up 3.5 lbs, which is only a preemie.
So I went down my list of excuses of why I can not work out tonight.
* It's so late, and I have to be up early.
I have the day off tomorrow, so I don't actually have to be awake until 4:00 p.m. Blast.
* I hate working out when my roommate is home.
She is asleep, and does not wake up at small sounds like pounding on a treadmill. Or honking of a car horn, or banging on the door, or repeated slamming of the doorbell. I learned this the day I forgot my keys.
* I don't know where my sneakers are.
Oops, they are right next to me. Blast.
* I don't know where my inhaler is.
Oh, there it is.
My hair is curled/straightened/not in a ponytail, and I don't want to get it sweaty.
I was going to take a shower anyway. Blast.
So dang it, I guess I'm getting all sweaty and sore tonight.