Hello Dear Reader,
Lately, I've been noticing that my clothes are fitting a bit more snug...so snug, in fact, that I can barely feel my feet because my skinny jeans are cutting off circulation to nearly my entire lower half. Researching this phenomenon a little bit more, I noted that the snugness of my pants directly correlates to the number of days spent cohabitating with my beautiful Ethiopian. Because I know where your mind is going, I'll answer you before you ask: No, there is no injera-flavored bun in the oven.
Here's my rhetorical question to you, Dear Reader: Why does love "make" you fat? Ok..."fat" is a very strong word, because I'm not fat...just a bit out of shape and with a little more to love. When I asked my oxen-like friend, he said, "Because they get lazy and lazy breeds bad food decisions which leads to weight gain followed by a more sedentary lifestyle than they lived as singles." Sometimes I really hate his honesty...and when he's right. Ugg. Oxen-like friend: 1; Danielle: 0.
The truth is that, because my sweetie pie runs (no pun intended) on a different food schedule, and I'm the one cooking, I have been eating a lot more and more often than I would on my own. It's easier to stay in bed and be lazy in the mornings instead of braving the cold winter mornings for a run in the dark. Lastly, one day, when my sweet face and I were walking to the mall for lunch, I made the comment that my pants were getting a bit tight and I was feeling a bit pudgy. He said, "Isn't it interesting that some people have nothing to complain about so they start to make things up." In my mind, that translated to, "You look great so stop complaining." Which then translated to, "You don't have to work so hard to stay the same size." Which translated to, "Whew, I can take a break and be a bit lazy on the couch with you." Ugg...yes, my mind works in mysterious ways (read: likes to make up excuses for not doing the right thing).
The thing that is stressing me out (like an overdue bill) is that my wedding date is a short three months away and the dress I ordered was a size 2. Right now, I'm not so confident that it will fit as nicely as it did in the dress shop. Further, I know I'm not in the shape I want to be for my pictures...the same ones my great great great grandchildren will be posting on ancestry.com (if that site will still exist in 2080). As I've discovered through experience, there ain't nothin' to it but to do it, and all it takes is one step at a time (I've started to annoy myself with these blog posts, because they're nothing but excuses for a while now). So...I'll leave it at that until I have something more promising to post.
...so...ONE FOOT IN FRONT OF THE OTHER....KEEP IT MOVIN'....
YOURS IN (I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO CALL IT) TRAINING,
DANI....
...aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
Lately, I've been noticing that my clothes are fitting a bit more snug...so snug, in fact, that I can barely feel my feet because my skinny jeans are cutting off circulation to nearly my entire lower half. Researching this phenomenon a little bit more, I noted that the snugness of my pants directly correlates to the number of days spent cohabitating with my beautiful Ethiopian. Because I know where your mind is going, I'll answer you before you ask: No, there is no injera-flavored bun in the oven.
Here's my rhetorical question to you, Dear Reader: Why does love "make" you fat? Ok..."fat" is a very strong word, because I'm not fat...just a bit out of shape and with a little more to love. When I asked my oxen-like friend, he said, "Because they get lazy and lazy breeds bad food decisions which leads to weight gain followed by a more sedentary lifestyle than they lived as singles." Sometimes I really hate his honesty...and when he's right. Ugg. Oxen-like friend: 1; Danielle: 0.
The truth is that, because my sweetie pie runs (no pun intended) on a different food schedule, and I'm the one cooking, I have been eating a lot more and more often than I would on my own. It's easier to stay in bed and be lazy in the mornings instead of braving the cold winter mornings for a run in the dark. Lastly, one day, when my sweet face and I were walking to the mall for lunch, I made the comment that my pants were getting a bit tight and I was feeling a bit pudgy. He said, "Isn't it interesting that some people have nothing to complain about so they start to make things up." In my mind, that translated to, "You look great so stop complaining." Which then translated to, "You don't have to work so hard to stay the same size." Which translated to, "Whew, I can take a break and be a bit lazy on the couch with you." Ugg...yes, my mind works in mysterious ways (read: likes to make up excuses for not doing the right thing).
The thing that is stressing me out (like an overdue bill) is that my wedding date is a short three months away and the dress I ordered was a size 2. Right now, I'm not so confident that it will fit as nicely as it did in the dress shop. Further, I know I'm not in the shape I want to be for my pictures...the same ones my great great great grandchildren will be posting on ancestry.com (if that site will still exist in 2080). As I've discovered through experience, there ain't nothin' to it but to do it, and all it takes is one step at a time (I've started to annoy myself with these blog posts, because they're nothing but excuses for a while now). So...I'll leave it at that until I have something more promising to post.
...so...ONE FOOT IN FRONT OF THE OTHER....KEEP IT MOVIN'....
YOURS IN (I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO CALL IT) TRAINING,
DANI....
...aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
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