I am quickly sliding down that slippery slope towards forty. Today I am 36 years old. Thirty-four didn't bother me, and I pretty much managed to ignore 35, but 36 is sinking in. And other things about me are sinking too, I think gravity is catching up. If I could only loose some of the baby weight, perhaps I wouldn't feel so old. But I'm feeling old and pudged. And I don't usually enjoy exercising, but back to the YMCA I must go. I put myself back on Weight Watchers last week in an attempt to remedy this pudgy situation, and even though I get 10 extra points a day for breast feeding, I still feel hungry and deprived. It's not fair to not be able to eat what ever I want. Especially when one enjoys food as much as I do. And it's not like I'm a junk food junky. Sure, I enjoy the occasional deep fried snack, but not even on a daily basis. Or weekly basis for that matter. I'm sure it's all about portion control. I've always been able to pack it away. And my thighs are my storage units. But tonight my dear husband is taking me somewhere for dinner, and the size of my thighs will not deter my enjoyment tonight.
So lunch for twenty is nearly complete. Off to deliver lunch. Stop by the church to finish up some old treasurer duties before handing off the check book next week to the new treasurer. One stop at the grocery store for Thursdays lunch, and back home to await my much anticipated birthday dinner. And according to Dora the Explorer this morning, it was Boots special day today too. He got to wear a banana crown, ride a fire truck and a roller coaster. I think my birthday will be low key by comparison. But good for Boots, that monkey knows how to party.
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