Do you remember the phrase, "Want a brownie button or a chest to put it on?" This prolly only applies to girls, but who knows - maybe boys were as interested in their chest sizes as girls were.
Anyway, I was again loathing myself on a scale yesterday that I think has surpassed any former loathing. I was bound and determined to get my booty out of bed and walk on that treadmill. I wake up at the right times to do it, I just can't seem to muster the strength or desire or whatever to get out of bed to do it.
So I was then determined to walk on the dreaded treadmill last night. I even skipped family home evening with my sister and her family to ensure that I do it, sort of as a form of self-punishment for being so blasted lazy.
Hmm, got home last night, was sweaty just from bringing in groceries and decided maybe tomorrow.
You really wonder why I'm still single, don't you?
Anyway, I was getting ready for bed and it just kept nagging me that I was failing, YET AGAIN, so miserably. Do I really have so little self control? Really Tara?
So I just did it. I jumped on that treadmill in my special backside burning shoes and walked that thing until sweat was pouring from every edifice (TMI?).
Yes, I want that brownie button now. I already have the chest to put it on.
Actually, just gimme the brownie.