I’ll keep it short and sweet. My patience is thin and my brain is still working out the fuzzies. Apparently, “carbo-loading” is only for athletes. Not for mothers of 4 year olds who insist they are 13 or 9 year olds who insist that 7 x 8 = 46, despite how many ways of Sunday you attempt to show them otherwise. Who knew?
I am attempting to detox from All Of The Deliciousness that took place last week. We are leaving for Disney World in T minus 2 weeks and 3 days. I feel it necessary to walk around the parks in something other than my largest pair of yoga pants and baggiest sweatshirt. Who’s with me?
I have concocted the following formula to help me in this endeavor:
No, no, no. I jest. My formula is more along the lines of simply eradicating Devil Dogs from my diet. I figure that should net me a 10 pound loss in 2 weeks. Not unreasonable, right?(Believe me! If you could see the rate of my Devil Dog consumption of late? You might be tempted to agree. Sadly…)
This mad-hatched formula was introduced on Sunday evening. I’d like to state, for the record, that so far, everyone in my home is breathing and no one has threatened to turn me in to the Diet Police for infractions involving Devil Dogs. It has required much restraint on my part. Just, you know… for the record. Oh, yes indeedy.
Goodbye to these:
And hopefully, hello to a far friendlier number on the scale. Soon.
Like, maybe tomorrow?