On my last trip to Amsterdam I apparently named my belly Fritz. I don't remember it that way; I remember discussing how the name Fritz came to be, especially as the Dutch word for fries, frites, sounds so very much like Fritz. And at that moment in time, I seriously wanted some frites in my belly.
Thus, my spare tire had a name.
A few weeks later, we were in Venice and an old woman - I kid you not, she was at least 80 - offered me her seat on the bus and asked if she could touch my belly.
I am not pregnant.
But I look like I am.
When I came home I started a new job, which I love, but which has led me to snacking at my desk and slowly grazing until I'm pretty sure Fritz has a twin.
More than my vanity, this is a problem because my baby sister is getting married in 10 months, and the dress I have to wear as her Maid of Honor is rather... tight. It will show off my every asset, which to be honest can be a good thing - I have a fabulous ass - but for the front of me, this is no good.
I enjoy exercise, and since I have an apparent intolerance for gluten, I generally eat fairly healthy. It's portions I have a problem with. In the warmer months I like to be outside, and I'll run for five miles with my dog, Zoe.
I've told myself all winter that I would exercise at home with free weights and crunches, but so far all I've done when I get home from work is plop my delicious ass down on the sofa and catch up on the NCIS marathon I missed while I was at work (I'm rooting for Tony and Ziva to just hook up already and forget Rule No. 12). My dog is depressed because I ignore her, which is part of the reason I have avoided getting a gym membership, which would mean being away from her for longer. But let's be honest here: how much am I really paying attention to her when Gibbs takes up all of my attention? None.
I'm also exceedingly lucky because my health insurance pays me back for going to the gym, so long as I go twice a week for 12 weeks out of 20. Not a bad deal. So why don't I get off the couch?
The other night I was cleaning my room and happened to catch a glimpse of myself in my bedroom mirror. I was not happy.
So I decided to cut out the daily NCIS and budding obsession with Criminal Minds (love me some Agent Morgan), and go to the gym after work for an hour of cardio, strength training and sauna sitting. Every day I go to work is a day I go to the gym afterwards. So I started this blog with one of my bffs (and am intending on sucking my sister in as well) to have a support system while I do my best to forget about Tony and Ziva.
Both of them are getting married in October (possibly November for my sister), so I have 9 months to get rid of Fritz.
Kind of ironic, eh?
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