Honesty moment.  I have gained weight!  Either that or my pants shrank…and I DO suck at laundry…

Nevermind that.  It’s official – I am a wife and I have let myself go – things are starting to poke out of here and there and there is a new roll around my waist that would definitely be a Glamour DON’T.

How has this happened?  Well, three weeks of eating pasta and cream and butter and foie gras (oh talk dirty to me!) not to mention drinking wine and more wine and perhaps a grappa for the lady, was a good start (darn honeymoon).  And I tell myself it’s hard for me to work out with a foot injury (mainly because I look like an ass in the gym wearing one shoe and an orthopedic boot).  And I had a fit test which was more like a fat test…25% body fat, thank you very much.

Excuse me, did you say 25%?

And, to add insult to injury, there is a 4 in my weight where there has never been a 4 before.  An intruder of sorts.  And no, I am not pregnant.  Someone told me "There is always swimming, you know."  Traiter.  Whose side are they on.

Fabulous.  Now I am to become a woman obsessed with her weight.  And women obsessed with their weight are such fun to be with!  This should be grand.

But I am determined.  I shall overcome!  Well, as soon as I finish this awesome french dip (I ordered the veggies instead of the fries…hey, it’s a start) and this glass of wine, I will start.

I need a program.  A goal.  I had a goal for the last year (remember "Oh on your wedding day, you need to look the best you have ever looked!"  Barf.).  Now I need a new one – a mission of sorts. 

Stay tuned.  It could be getting to the gym four times a week, it could be a half-marathon, it could be all of the above (notice I did not say "it could be a detox diet and no wine, and the butter is heading down the loo!  WEE doesn’t that sound FUN!").  I am not delusional, there is no way I am giving up eating.  But working out, that I can do.

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