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The Bang Bang Theories

The Blame Game

It’s the end of Daylight Savings, and while Morning Me is   sUpPeR   hApPy   (see, I intentionally made those words dance when you read them) about that, Evening Me is going to be less dance-y.

Let’s just face facts. I’m not a morning person, unless we’re talking about the morning that starts around 10 a.m.

So here it is, only 10:30 a.m., and I’ve been up long enough to make breakfast, have two cupsa coffee, wrote a little in my planner, texted people, watched Valerie Bertenelli make some mulled wine and sausage for lunch with her friends on t.v., made the bed, and here we are. All that has been accomplished, thanks, Time Change!

Except tonight won’t be as fun.

I have to just ask, why are so many celebrities getting cooking shows? I mean, what are they offering that’s different from each other? How is Valerie different from Trisha Yearwood? I get the Pioneer Woman, it’s pretty easy recipes that even a cowboy loves, and her setting is more interesting.  I complain, and yet I am interested in making that sausage dish Valerie whipped up this morning. So scratch all that complaining, I guess it’s just fine and p.s., no one on the Food Network is asking my opinion anyway.

Back to me, and my Extra Hour Sunday.

You may be asking why I have a blog, and who cares what I’m doing anyway, the same way I just asked about that cooking network. Well, the simple answer is, I have a blog because I take the minutes to write up the nonsense in my brain, and so there. I sometimes take the minutes. Not that regularly, although I have a November Goal of doing better, so you’re welcome.

I am a Girl With Goals. Conflicted with the part of me that likes to Nap A Lot and also now that I’m in Florida, Lounge in the Pool A Lot.

Yesterday I made the pondered-for-a-week decision to re-join Planet Fitness.

Because I have to diversity my fitness goals, which currently only includes this:

So I did it, and then I wondered why I felt the need to do it. I obvi WANT something more than where I’m at with myself. I think about exercising a lot, in fact, so much that I’ve dubbed myself as an exceptional exer-thinker.

I exerthink a lot.

If I exercised half as much as I think I should be exercising, that would be an amazing fitness goal, and there, I just made a goal for myself.

So yesterday, after getting my check engine light looked at again, and the new scary sound my car is making looked into and fixed – thanks, Muffler Man and your team who cut out the rusted parts and welded in some new parts for $40 cheapo dollars – and got an oil change, and pondered the allure of the McRib sandwich, I drove right over to Planet Fitness and signed up and then Did Some Things for 1.5-ish hours, that time including 10 minutes in the shakey machine that I love, and 10 minutes on the hydromassage bed.  Suffice it to say I strutted outta there like I was a badass athlete who just completed her first marathon.  I was exceptionally proud of myself, considering I still hadn’t closed my “calories burned” ring on my Apple Watch, but I refuse to let my own watch be the boss of me. Screw you, Watch!

Today I’m pondering jumping in the pool, checking out the city of Sanford, starting my book that I plan to write but haven’t yet  – in addition to being an exerthinker, I am a ponderwriter, where I just really ponder writing on a daily basis – and then perhaps maybe this evening when it’s dark out anyway, heading back to the gym.

Because I’m still the exact same fat as I was when I came down to Florida four months ago.

Fun Fact you may not know about me unless your name is Kenny, I excel at blaming others for things. For ten years now I’ve blamed Kenny for being the reason I outweigh my cat by about a hundred pounds….sshhh….just go with it, Reader.

But all these years, I blamed him for our amount of eating out.  Movie theater popcorn. Watching movies instead of going to the gym. My not being able to get up in the morning and work out because we went to bed too late. My being distracted from working out in the evenings with dinner and movie plans or bar and wing plans or anything other than working out plans. Blame, Blame, Blameity Blame Game.

I re-homed my could-be-smaller ass to Florida. Where I’m in total control of what I buy, where I eat, what I do in the mornings and evenings. How much or how little I work out.

And when I went back home in September, not one person was shockingly surprised at how thin I had gotten. The scale wasn’t impressed, either. In fact, it registered the SAME EXACT WEIGHT as before I had left, which on one had, at least it wasn’t more, but all that swimming around had no bearing on my physical body. I make that distinction because Lawdy, has it been good for me mentally.

Kenny, on the other hand, has dropped 30 lbs since I’ve been gone.

He was on the “eat cucumbers and bagels with cream cheese only” diet and it worked. So there, all you anti-carbists.

He doesn’t cook. I think he’s turned on the stove one time. When I was home in September there wasn’t a single stitch of groceries in the fridge except for something smelly and rotting in the vegetable bin, and a bag of black, watery potatoes in the pantry.  I got to clean that up, because I’m a lucky girl.

Me, on the other hand, well, I cook myself little meals, and grocery shop, and pack my lunch almost every single day for work. I drink water and coffee and maybe just a tich too much wine, but remember, Reader, we are a NO JUDGING ZONE, unless we both agree to judge something together.  Wine is basically how I’ve been getting in my fruits, and it’s supposed to be heart healthy, or at least I think I read that somewhere one time.

So what we’ve learned here is:

1/ I’m actually the reason Kenny was fat.

2/ Wine is a fruit.

3/ Falling back an hour hasn’t made me accomplish anything more today other than having a third cuppa coffee.

4/ I should probably have a cooking show, teaching everyone how to cook in a teensy big-as-a-minute kitchen. Except we couldn’t fit a camera crew in here.

5/ When Walmart hides the scales from you, even after you’ve circled the store three times in search of one to help with your grand-plans for being less you, but they put these FRONT AND CENTER …

… well, Walmart is really to blame for my being fat.

6/ Yes, I bought them.


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