On the tails of a post in which I confess that I am eating like a warthog (obviously, that means in copious quantities) and of another post in which I generally poo-poo the pricey B & B we went to the weekend before, I’m just going to briefly say that we went to The French Laundry for lunch on Saturday.
Yes, the Thomas Keller restaurant commonly referenced as one of, if not THE, best restaurants in the world.
This wasn't even my food.
We weren’t even planning to go or anything. It was all spur of the moment.
Because that’s just how we roll, you know.
I will be much less snobby in the near future.
I am so that girl with a curl in the middle of her forehead. I’m either very, very good or I’m horrid.
No gym. Fast food. Smoking.
5 workouts a week. Conscientious, wholesome eating. Smoke free.
But lately, I’ve been doing something weird. I’m not riding along on the wagon. But I’m also not slothing out in my log cabin. It’s more like I’m hanging on to the back of the wagon being dragged along behind. I’m still working out diligently. 3 runs per week. 3 x boot camp. 1 Body Pump class. 1 spin class. So yay. That’s good work.
But. Oh, but.
I’ve been a scarf monster. The treats I’ve indulged in!
And it’s so dumb. I’m gulping down enough that I’m negating the impressive amount of exercise I’m doing.
It could be worse. I could be eating too much AND wimping out on my workouts. But I do fear that this bad behavior is a slow slide in that direction.
I have been making myself get on the scale each week. Just to see. And I think that’s a wise move. So much easier to let it slip in blissful ignorance. Instead, I scowl at myself in informed knowingness.
And then? I don’t know…. maybe writing it down here will matter.
Hello, Blog-Maggie. It’s me. Real-Maggie. I just wanted to tell you about how I’m struggling with my will power lately. But I would like to do better. So keep an eye out for me. I hope that I can report something good back to you soon.