With my newly found life of fitness, I can only look on the coming days of feasting with a slight twinge of regret. So, without further adieu (hahah, I am so funny. Without further goodbye . . . hahahahaha.), I begin my Thanksgiving mea culpa (no, don't go look it up, it means "admission of guilt." And don't think I'm that smart. I used the thesaurus to look up another word for "apology" since I wanted to sound clever and funny. All of which I probably did until I admitted all of this. OK. stopping. now.)
Ahem
Ryan, leader of my Booty Camp, I apologize in advance for the blatant slap in the face to your diet and nutrition goals for me. (I'll refer to Thanksgiving as my Boot Camp Sin of Commission because that's SO what it is) .
Body, I apologize to you in advance as well. Prepare for the stomach to be stretched to capacity, for the ingestion of a 12,000 calorie meal (ok fine you caught me, I'm exaggerating again. The average Thanksgiving meal is only 3000 calories and 229 grams of fat, but STILL!) and the gluttonous regret afterward as I lay on the couch, unable to move for fear of what will happen to me if I do. I also apologize for round two, in which I will put you through all of that torture again. And maybe for round three, depending on how hungry everyone else is and how much food is left over.
New pants, I apologize to you to, as I'm sure you will no longer fit after Shirley's cooking helps add at least five pounds back on to my newly shrunken bottom. We had a good two week run, didn't we? I promise to find you again someday. Hopefully you're not horribly out of style by then.
New bathing suit for Mexico, I feel especially bad for you, as you may never see the glistening waters of the Pacific Ocean or the gloriousness of the infinity edge pool at our rented villa, since I may just be wearing a wetsuit to try and suck in the holiday LBs.
Fat pants, you're the only ones I feel I can say that I don't have to apologize to, as you will be once again welcomed back into the rotation to clothe your voracious owner. I can't say I'm happy about it, but I bet you are.
Mashed potatoes made from cream cheese, real butter and cream . . . come to Mommy. I've been waiting for you all year.
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2 comments:
3000 calories this! Bring it on! Bring it!
mmmmm.... mash potatoes!!! ps youre sleeping in the next room and i am thinking about jumping on you at 7 am (right now) but i am a nice sister! you remember that!
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