A couple of days ago my mom came for a visit, and brought with her a giant and terrifying and life affirming (although not really all that life affirming) box of donuts. Now, it had been years since I'd eaten a donut, so I guess I figured I was due. Or some other really flimsy excuse to eat way too many donuts.
Spoiler alert: I ate some donuts.
Then I learned that it's really hard to come back from donuts. It's really hard to be productive after you've eaten donuts. It's really hard to get dressed after you've eaten donuts. It is technically impossible to exercise and accomplish things in your life when you started the day with donuts. So I skipped lunch, and asked husband to bring home a pizza for dinner. I made the crazy mature decision to eat exclusively crap for a whole day, but to minimize craps impact by only eating two crap meals.
I'm not saying I'm making good life choices. I'm saying that there are donuts in my house.
Stories and gripings about exercise, dieting, life, and what it's been like learning to leave the love handles behind.
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