I like to give little weight updates for my thousands of curious fans. But as those of you who see me every day know, there is no need for an update on any weight loss.
Because there hasn't been any, dammit.
It's up. I think. Remember now, Cher and I are alike on many levels, especially the one where neither of us owns a scale. So I don't know for sure how much I've gained (or how much I had lost prior to this bloat-a-thon), but my "Summer of Loss" is turning into "Summer I try to not get any fatter".
I think I am the only person on the face of the earth who can actually find a way to gain weight during the hottest, most oppressive weather we get all year. When most people are stripped down to the flimsiest of garments, fanning themselves and soothing hunger pangs with cold lettuce leaves, I find myself ensconced in air conditioned nirvana, happily making huge dinners of curry chicken and eating lots of white rice.
The daily walks were put on the back burner, because it was so damn hot. My dog hates me. I see him looking at me, and in his dog-speak mind I'm sure he's lamenting the fact that out of all the people who trudged through the Humane Society that fateful day, he was chosen by the wuss who doesn't like to sweat.
I'm so sorry, Walter. Hopefully I'll still be mobile come fall and our walks will resume with enthusiasm.
I went out on Monday night, to a comedy club with two good friends. I had that "uh oh" moment when you realize that you have nothing to wear. Thank God I had my back up pants (every girl has them, right? The black pants that fit a few different sizes? Target always has a rack of them. Always.) and I did find an eccentric tunic from Chico's that I was going to sell on eBay but nabbed for myself. So I did manage to go out in something besides a gray t-shirt and my quick-dry big girl workout capri pants. But I felt icky, and uncomfortable. Maybe that had to do with the fact that I had squeezed into my Spanx camisole in a desperate effort to bind my expanding muffin top, maybe it was the fact that my ham hock arms are approaching Nell Carter territory...I dunno.
Whatever it was, it sent me into a funk. And I hate it!
So today I am going to force myself to get this fat ass out the door and onto a long, fast-paced waddle with my poor dog. Sweaty or not, I can't let myself get back into the fat rut. I WON'T let myself.
My next update will be good news. I hope. I am almost done with the 20 lb. bag of jasmine rice from Costco. No more, I promise.