Thursday

We are Bob-less again this evening. I made the Executive Decision not to go to the gym tonight (I stuck to my Good Eating Plan today, so the urge to purge isn't quite as severe as usual). Supposedly I intended to fill that hour-and-fifteen-minutes-or-so with things like sewing (I promised my mom a half-eaten chocolate bunny shirt), ironing a shirt to wear to work tomorrow, and painting my nails. The toddler's been in bed for 40 minutes now and all I've managed to do so far is search for a roll of Scotch tape (which I still haven't found), go through my Google Reader, check out Facebook, and type this blog post.

It's really a shame fucking off isn't an Olympic event, because I would totally rock the gold in that one.

I really think a serious binge is highly effective in putting one off shit food, at least for a while. I walked into my office this morning and when I saw the Lamar's box (that STILL had donuts in it), I didn't immediately want one. All I could think of was huffing and puffing my fat ass on that treadmill last night and wondering why the fuck I couldn't get my legs to move. And suddenly, there was nothing I wanted Less than a donut. I didn't touch them all day. Had no desire to, either. I had my skim latte and my oatmeal and my spinach salad and my Greek yogurt with honey and fat-free granola. For dinner, we made tilapia tacos with my fresh pineapple salsa, black beans and rice. And I'm not hungry. And it feels good.

If you're a finger-crosser, please do so--we've got an iron in the fire that could be a very, very good thing if it happens, but we won't find out for sure til next week and I can't say anything more about it before then. Trust me and cross them, please.

I suppose I should go do something productive now. I miss the days when I could do nothing and feel absolutely guilt-free about it.