It's only about 345pm, but I am pretty much done for the day, and I mean that in a good way. I am proud to report that I have completed my first full week of Body-for-LIFE!
I had a rough night last night (ahem, ahem, andrew). There's a saying: if you want to make God laugh, just tell Him your plans. And oh man was that true last night. I ended up going to bed rather late. Part of it was because I knew there wasn't going to be the alarm going off at 530, but also in part because Andrew went on a sleep strike, the likes of which I haven't seen in quite a while. He just would not go to sleep. He wouldn't have anything to do with it. There was a lot of negotiations, a lot of playing-the-room, a lot of begging (some of it mine), and finally, the cut off. He finally quieted down and even slept a little from about 11:20 to 1:30 am, but then he woke up again, and I went to lay down with him. Steve peeked in on us and just had to come in and say hello (why do guys do this? why?), and Andrew began to get rather chatty and, quite honestly, acrobatic. To make a long story short, after getting kicked in my aching pectoral muscles for the 4,278 time, I decided that, at 3:00 am, that Evil Mommy was going to have to come into play. Dire threats were made, and finally, I told Andrew that he could stay awake all he wanted, but he had to do it in his crib. He wasn't feverish, he said nothing hurt on him, I gave him Motrin anyway, but he just wanted to party all night...and I felt like beating my head on the carpeting until I knocked myself out or gave myself amnesia.
Waking up at 8:00 am this morning, though, wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. I was groggy and cranky for a little bit, but I suddenly just woke up and had all this crazy energy. We went out and walked to the farmer's market (big shout out to the Carrboro Farmer's Market--they are incredible and they sell yarn there--double win!). We came home and danced to crappy music from the 90s (hello, Vanilla Ice). I snuck out of the house while Andrew was asleep and ran on the elliptical at the apartment complex gym for my 20 minutes Aerobics Solution. I felt a little leery leaving Andrew, but we have a very good fire alarm, and he sleeps like the dead. Eh, maybe I won't do that again, but I didn't want to work out again at 10:30 at night.
I'm off to grab a snack and get ready for dinner. I'm going to hang out with some friends later tonight, and I'm going to treat myself when we all go out to the nearby not-so-greasy spoon. I'm going to have a Diet Coke. w00t!
But for tomorrow, my first Free Day...let me think...I suppose my Bisquick mix is going to be making it out of the pantry for breakfast, I can tell you that...and I think I'm going to be making a little peanut butter popcorn for TV watching tomorrow night...don't wait up! See you Monday!
OK, I have to check back in and write this out, because my head is definitely talking to me. I went out and hung out with some friends, and two of the guys in the group started talking about their cravings for fast food joints. McDonalds this, Arby's that, yadda yadda yadda. They talked about what item they just can't resist, and, since they were right next to me, I voiced that I do have a fondness for Burger King's Whoppers, which they wholeheartedly agreed with, and we agreed the fries suck. The point? I'm getting to it right now. Out of nowhere, after a couple of short exchanges in this vein, the older of the two said to me:
"Yeah, well, lucky you're married."
Uh, what? Is there some connection here I am supposed to immediately get? First off, I am engaged, not married, although I consider it the same thing, in view of our living arrangement. But the dinger is why am I lucky I'm married? Because I like fast food? No wait, I get it, you just spoke up from your inner (shortsighted) opinion that, since I am fat, I am lucky I'm married. It came up for you because I was talking to you about shitty fast food, and you looked at my body, and assumed that's all I think about. I'm so sorry I tried to partake in your conversation, what was I thinking? What a waste of my time.
I just find this little remark very interesting. It doesn't matter that I am smart, witty, can teach myself how to do things like knit or play piano, am a good mother, am well-versed in history, I'm likable, or any of that other stuff. None of these other attributes could have possibly contributed to the fact that I am where I am in life. Just cause I'm fat, I'm lucky I'm married.
I read you loud and clear. You're lucky I'm smart like that, asshole.