That's what I would like to know. Are we talking ounces here or pounds or as the Brits like to say, “stones.” (And, speaking of those Brits, I have yet to find two Rubenesque ones who are up to the challenge, so start dusting off some of Your-Mum's-So-Fat jokes.)
Good intentions must weigh a lot because good intentions don't seem to make the needle on my scale move to the left.
I probably need to work on that because on Wednesday I didn’t do anything exercise related. I should have. I had some good intentions there, but these 10 hour days I've been logging in for this teaching gig just wore me out and I
Thursday I perked up a bit and went to yoga. To help me with my fitness goal, my yoga teacher who I’ll start calling Missy Chrissy Pretzel (because it's just fun to say and because she can bend herself in ways I never thought possible) had us all work on the Eagle pose. A lot.
Did I say a lot? I've decided my Eagle is flying through a wind tunnel because I seem to be slanted at what probably equates mathematically to a 30 degree angle. Missy Chrissy Pretzel tells me I just need to practice more.
I fear my fellow yogis don't share her optimism or my enthusiam. In fact, if I weren't paranoid, I might even go so far as to say that I felt just a smidge of bad kharma oozing my way.
Friday I didn’t make it into the garage either.
Again, the school gig interfered. And again, I
I did walk about two miles on Saturday and I weighed myself. Despite the heaviness of my good intentions, I was encouraged. The needle moved to the left a bit. I'll let you know how much it moved when I go Monday morning to the nurse's office for an “official” weigh in.
Let's hope my good intentions quit weighing me down.