This week my family experienced a loss, a friend got news that her mother does not have long to live, I didn't sleep well, and I was disappointed to learn that we only have one confirmed sign-up for Girls on Track so far. I did not work out once beyond Sunday. Bring on the pity party with balloons. Actually, it was chocolate. And wine. And donuts. And Oreos. And double decker Boca Burgers. Did I mention the wheel of brie?
I cried because life is full of loss. Then I cried because life is short. Then I cried because I don't feel like I'm doing enough with mine. Then I cried because I caught sight of my "moon-pie" face in the photo booth application on my MacBook. This resulted in the consumption of more cheese.
My friend John is the only other human (No, I do not tell Danny. It's bad enough he sees the yo-yo in pants sizes every time he does laundry) on this earth who knows my weight. I report to him each Monday via email. I asked him for a pass this week. He has graciously given this to me, along with a bootie-kickin' treadmill workout. He expects me to get out of my funk and get back to the gym. So, I will. Sometimes all you need is for someone to expect something of you.