Have no fear, no blob lost here.
Apparently, after countless side-bends and sit-ups, the only thing I’ve lost is all the time spent doing side-bends and sit-ups. Now you already know, (as a loyal reader since, well, the very last post), I was on vacation this past weekend. I was visiting with amazing people in amazing places doing amazing things, but this post is not about any of that. This blog is about the fact that these people had not seen me in a year or more, and not one single person indicated that I looked any different. Some people even asked if I’d seen any results yet from all that P90X. “So, are you seeing any results yet?” What’s the response there? “Eh, are YOU? I guess not, then . . . .”
So that, in itself, is something, right? But what’s more, I feel this comment vacuum calls into question Sideshow Blob’s recent encouraging compliments since only he has the magic glasses through which my P90X results may be perceived. So, I guess I can either take this as the sign for my exit of the freeway to fitness, away from Dang,-You-Jacked City and back to the subblobs. OR I can ramp it up.
I’m sure you are already well aware of the fact that this vacation came with many chills and spills in the dieting sphere, not the least of which were the killer cupcakes served at an afternoon garden party I attended. I mean, I’m no stranger to a sizeable cupcake, but these cupcake weren’t just around the house, they were a-ROUND the house. Never one to back away from a challenge, and armed with a stepladder and a garden spade, I wolfed that thing down, chased it with about three hundred half-full glasses of champagne, and honestly contemplated a rinse-and-repeat.
So, though I’ve typed it before and I’ll undoubtedly type it again, I’m getting serious. I’m going to really steel my resolve against my loved ones (cakes, cookies, donuts, cheese, french fries, hot wings, cheese, cookies, and cheese). And, next week begins the implementation of my new, improved, and characteristically last-minute plan to get to the Unveiling in July and having at least one person (NOT related to me by blood or marriage) comment on my fitter, trimmer, tighter, less blob-a-licious bod.
So until the transition next week into what I like to call “high-no-freaking-kidding-gear,” the rest of this week is just about coping with the only slightly less jarring transition from The Best Vacation Ever to Real Life.
Boo to that.