Monday, February 13, 2012

Physical Fatness

I received a most excellent phone call yesterday from my Mad Vagabond. He's coming home earlier than he anticipated, and before our anniversary!  

When I'm not working, I spend a lot of time daydreaming about when he comes home. Ok, I daydream about it even when I am working. 

That might explain a lot.
Deadlines are such pesky little things. I'll tend to them later.
Not only is he coming home early, I am heading back to California with him. YES! For as long as I want!  Double yes!! Back on the road again. Gypsy life agrees with me.

After hanging up the phone, I had a terrible realization. You see, I have been carrying on a sordid affair with chocolate since Mr. Vagabond left at the beginning of January. 
Just one taste.  Maybe two.

So while on the inside I've been feeling like this...
the reality is something else altogether. 

What to do, what to do. 

At first, I thought what any reasonable person whose nightstand is covered with Twix wrappers might think. I need to go on a diet, and I will start exercising. 

Ok, maybe tomorrow. 

I have the best ideas when I falling asleep. Unfortunately, the cold light of morning exposes a harsh reality. Would I really exercise?
This looks fun!
Um, fun?
Maybe a spa!
Just like jail, but with more activity and worse food.
I'd exhausted all my ideas for physical activity, but I wasn't licked quite yet.

I thought about buying a super hot corset. Mr. Vagabond would LOVE that. 
Look at that tiny waist (And pay no attention to the squooshies coming out the top and bottom).
What the...
How does this thing WORK?
Fine. The corset is a no-go. Even if I could find a way to get the thing on, Mr. Vagabond is not known for his patience. 

I'm running out of ideas, here.

I have two weeks to shed the plumpage I've gained since January 4, and I need some inspiration.

Right after I finish this cherry danish. 



  1. Pfft! Like Mr. Vagabond will care about a couple of pounds. You married a MAN, sis. The genuine type. ;)

    That said, counting calories is the only thing that's ever worked for me. That, and walking. But not both. Let's not go CRAZY now.



  2. LOL! Oh, Carole, this one's a winner. I chortled from start to finish. (Okay, maybe the fact that I was simultaneously stuffing myself with an "everything" bagel sandwich made this somehow more relevant to my funny bone...) ;D

    And of course, the vintage pics are to die for. I've saved them. I'm going to send the first one to my hubby (presently slaving away at the office) just to let him know how hard at work I am on that pile of laundry he dumped on the couch yesterday. (While I sat nearby tackling my Facebook updates.)

  3. Mr. Vagabond wouldn't say a word. I just have this serious guilty conscience about "The Chocolate Affair." Counting calories, 'eh? I wonder how many calories are in an everything bagel sandwich, because that sounds really, really yummy!

  4. At risk of spoiling the yumminess effect, I refuse to count. Better to do 'spa' time after the crime...(the 'better to ask forgiveness than permission' mentality). ;)

  5. I really loved this post, and the pictures were priceless!

    If I could lose half a pound every time I told myself it was time to start exercising, I'd be seriously underweight by now. :-)

  6. Thanks! And I am right there with you. Too bad it's not the thought that counts! LOL!