Two!

The number of days I worked out this week so far... is two! Two is better than zero, and I still have an opportunity to work out 3 more days this week :) I started off with a brisk walk up and down the hilly part of the golf course, and then moved into following the Couch to 5k routine with running for about a minute and walking for about 90 seconds for 20 minutes. While I was running, I couldn't help but feel good... the temperature was nice for a change, it wasn't raining, AND I went to the bathroom before I worked out.

Yep, the bathroom is key. Not to be gross, but for some reason when lactic acid builds up in my calf muscles, it makes me have to poop. This has always been a problem for me. My stinkin' calf muscles are a huge hurdle for me, one of those things that cause me to pause and want to stay home and eat a bon bon. Because running while having to stop every 30 ft to cross my legs and hold it? ...is no fun. So I was running along, getting into a rhythm, until the familiar build up began. I was able to slide by (pun intended) with letting a little air escape, and I went back to feeling good... until someone lapped me. I was squinting to see who it was, but he was too fast, and it was too dark! I just hope he wasn't running downwind, and I fervently hope it was not my neighbor's husband! When I got home, Jack Sprat wanted to know where I went... and you see, I just don't want to talk about it! Where else would have I gone with my ipod, in my stretchy pants, running shoes, and leg warmers? Just kidding! I don't have leg warmers, but they would be awesome. Maybe I will look for some online, but I digress.

Anyway, mini-goal for the remainder of this month: knock off the sugar! Only Splenda for my coffee. Deal with the withdrawal and then work on my other couple of vices... bread and cheese.

Of course...

I realize it has been over an entire year since I posted last on this blog, and my diet has gone as well as my blog writing has gone. Partly this is because, of course... just as I summon the will to be healthy and exercise, I found out I was pregnant. Very exciting... and my daughter is the best part of my life. Now I just need to get healthy so I can keep up!

I have renewed my hope to become fit. Jack Sprat of course is still overboard on his fitness... which makes me want to eat macaroni and cheese. But really, I need to get a handle on myself. The months of being pregnant were not kind to my body. And it did not help that Jack went through a "num num" making phase during which he made delectable treats full of butter and sugar. And then made me eat them. I am not kidding. He actually made me... which is kinda offensive since he wouldn't want to eat them himself since it was unhealthy. I mean who freaking does that to someone who is overweight! Like, "Hear fatty, come get the cupcake!"

So today I stole recipes from my sister's blog, The Rookie Cook and managed a healthy day. I made stuffed peppers and Shrek soup for dinner. Thank heaven for 40 calorie a slice bread, or I would have been in real trouble! My loving husband came home with salted caramel gelato and a cupcake. Sigh... at least he didn't get mad that I ate it!

Women and their Cheese

Why is it that women love cheese so much? It is just a lump of salted fat from the milk of some mammal... but every woman I know loves cheese! Even the skinny ones! We go out to dinner, and the skinny girls devour goat cheese like it is the last day on earth. As I sit here and type, I have images of my friends eating cheese. They start longingly at it, knowing that they should not, dare not, eat it. Five minutes later, they have maneuvered closer to that tempting chunk and their pupils dilate as they imagine biting into the soft, salty slice of heaven. The next time I look, the cheese is in hand, and they are chewing contentedly while sort of looking lovingly at their little trophy.

The funny thing is... I used to think no one noticed.

I went out to the bar one night and resisted the temptation to soak up my alcohol infused stomach with a late night trip to White Castle. But upon arriving home, my stomach grumbled... I guess a night of dancing like Beyonce will do that to you. As I did the open door fridge scan, my eyes lit upon slices of American cheese in their own wrapper. The heavens opened and angels began to sing. And I went to bed with a satisfied belly.

The next day, I felt proud that I didn't eat an extra value meal and settled on a slice of Kraft. That is, until my friend's older brother was like, "Don't think I didn't see you last night, searching the fridge for cheese." Busted.

I split my pants...

After being at work all day, coming home and eating a shit ton of cookies, my husband convinces me to go to Trader Joe's. So I do and keep it healthy, all the while thinking to myself "This is it, I am going to eat healthy like those skinny bee-otches that proclaim their undying love for salads." Although I did not, in fact, buy anything to use to make a salad... but that is beside the point.

And sidenote... who the F loves salad? It is cold! You can't warm it to make it be comforting!

Ok- enough... back to my point.

So I think to myself "I will start tomorrow" and decide that since I am going to give up cheese for good, I better get myself something cheesy and bid the lump of delectable cow fat farewell (insert sniff, tear). I pull a sneaky ninja move at the checkout and ask for money over with my debit card... this of course enables me to go buy fast food without Jack Sprat noticing the debit (as I suck at actually carrying cash with me). I think to myself, "Personal Pan Pizza from Pizza Hut drive-through" and motor on over, but not before passing the White Castle and deciding I also needed a small order of Mozzarella sticks.

And yes, I eat them... hey- it isn't the elusive tomorrow, in which I will start over... but I don't want Jack to see me snorking down food as if the apocalypse is coming, so I do my snorking in the car, like usual. Then I felt sick to my stomach... this is because I am lactose intolerant, yet I can't seem to keep away from cheese. I of course have a theory on Women with their Cheese, but that will have to come later, as I already have too many side notes going in this post.

Anyway, so I get home and bring in the groceries... give Jack his lean steak- the original reason I went to good 'ole TJ's- and take a detour into the washroom, where I discover...

... that I had split my pants in front, just below the zipper, yet in full view of the crotchal region. Not quite as bad as the evening of Jock's Nuts, but seriously? The blue paisley panties were in full view.

So here we go again... I know I have said this over and over but thought perhaps I could try using writing as an outlet. Yes, I decided to call my blog Jack Sprat's wife... this is because I feel like that wife that could eat no lean. Or, rather, can eat lean, but only for a couple weeks and then falls back into a rut that results in me feeling too full because I ate too much damn cheese.