Yesterday my friend who has a pool invited me over for a dip and a glass of wine. With summer finally making a reluctant appearance in the East (and not having A/C), I was very happy to accept the invitation.
After hanging up, still holding the phone, I stared blankly into space. What had I done!
Swimming=Swimsuit! Idiot! OK, don't panic, I told myself. You might be able to pull this off. First, locate the swimsuit.
There it was smushed up in the back of my work-out clothes drawer. It took a good fifteen minutes to wrestle myself into the blue one piece. It was like a live thing pushing back saying, "NO, I won't! You can't make me!"
Once I had it on, and the panting subsided, I took stock. Not too bad. No unsightly bulges, everything that needed covering was covered. Thank you God! Now I could enjoy the lightness of being in a pool. And I did.
But, boy oh boy, was this a wake up call. After goofing off in the discipline department for a couple of weeks it was time to get serious again. It's amazing to me how well denial works until it doesn't. In my defense, if I didn't pay attention to what I eat, even as intermittently as I do, I'd be as big as my horse, Annie, and she comes in at 1,100 pounds, give or take a hundred.
Of course it would be better if I could lose some weight, but I'm glad I haven't gained more than one pound in the last two weeks. Just saying. I hope to have a better report next week.