Food. Me likes it. Me likes it a lot. Me likes it fresh. Me likes it grilled. Me likes period.
If only I didn't like it so much.
If only I could be like those actresses and runway models who eat 2.5 ounces of grilled salmon and a 1/2 a cup of lettuce and proclaim themselves stuffed.
I am not that girl.
In the month since FIL became broken, I have gained five pounds. FIVE.STINKING.POUNDS.
Now, you may be thinking that five pounds isn't all that much. Peesshhaww you say. It's only a few pounds you say. Sure, but added to their soul mates that are attached to my thighs and it's more than a few pounds.
In all fairness, I am reasonably certain that a few of these pounds are stress pounds
Just let me have my little day dream here, okay?
Stress pounds are produced NOT from eating, but from stressful situations that cause your body to store extra fat in your stomach area. Isn't that great? Now not only can you gain weight by eating actual food, you can also gain wait by stressing out.
Isn't that swell?
Let's not even mention the little fact that since I am now cooking for two extra people (unabomber and FIL), one of which is picky, that my menu hasn't been as "healthy" as it could be.
FIL isn't a veggie eater.
FIL doesn't like this.
He doesn't like that.
It's like having a three-year-old sometimes. Except I can't send him to his room. I could, however, wait until he's in there and take his walker. Then he's stuck until I decide to bring it back...Not that I would ever do that.
Anyway, five pounds. FIVE.STINKING.ROTTEN.GROSS.POUNDS.
So, this week, I up the anti. I'll need to hit the track. I'll need to make it to the gym more than once a week. I'll need to just say NO to cake.
I mean, yum, cottage cheese and fiber one.