I woke up early this morning. Actually, I woke up at seven, which is when I am supposed to get up everyday (it’s an hour later than I have to when I work)—most days, I don’t actually get up till eight. So, I woke up early this morning.
I went to the gym, all ready to do a great arm workout and forty-five minutes of cardio (accompanied by Gossip Girl, of course). Only to discover, I’d left my shirt at home. Perfect. (I do that waaaay too much!) Shouldda slept in. I planned on getting all that out of the way early and then trying to write for a few hours before going to give a massage at three—I wasn’t able to get any writing done yesterday as I ended up babysitting, which made me very, very happy. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to write today as the list of things to get done is rather overwhelming, and I have a hard time writing when I feel like I am not being responsible. My family and I are going to Disney World tomorrow for a week, and there is a ton to do to prepare. (Family friends got free hotel rooms, so we don’t have pay for that—which is how we can ‘afford’ to go.) While we all know Disney World is my favorite place in the world, I can’t tell you how much I am dreading the sweating increase (I know, I know, that shouldn’t even be possible). . . anything to spend time with Ariel and Donald Duck, I suppose.
Speaking of sweating, a massage client (as much as I complain about giving massages, I have several clients that don’t really feel like clients anymore, they feel like friends) brought me a birthday gift last weekend. He is always late for our appointments, and typically, it is because he is bringing me a drink from Starbucks (he comes early in the morning, and since he is typically the first in a five or six hour shift, I am more than happy with his lateness since his gift gives me a little liquid endurance). Anyway, he brought me a big bag of Starbucks coffee beans (because he knows I like coffee), a Starbucks bottled water (because I always tell him to drink lots of water after the massage), and a Starbucks cup of fresh fruit (because he knows I like to eat healthy). The gesture was very sweet, but still. . . who has been spreading such horrible rumors about me? LIKE to eat healthy? Yes, my cheese, tortilla, cheeseburger, ice cream obsession is very healthy. It always cracks me up when people assume I’m a health fanatic (I had a lady freak out on me at school when she saw me eating a candy bar [which that is really rare—I don’t really care for that kind of candy…marzipan, please…] she couldn’t believe I would do that to the obvious work I have put into my body—I’m sorry, you’re right, I do, but really? you’re so bored in your own life that you have to watch other people’s diets?). I’m constantly feeling guilty that I don’t eat healthier—hence the past six days wearing the same jeans, yes, yes, they are my fat jeans. I do wish I had a better body, but the idea of not having bread and pasta is simply not going to happen. I was reading an interview with Bradley Cooper where he talked about getting in shape for the A-Team (and, boy, did he ever!). He said he had a personal trainer who kept him on a 2,000 calorie a day diet (ummm, I’ve had double that in my White Russian Chai this morning) and worked him out for hours a day. Let’s think? Yes, I could probably have a body SIMILAR to Bradley Cooper, but then I’d have to kill myself. Most days are harder-than-not emotionally, you really don’t wanna take away my carbs and refined sugar if you want to keep me on the face of the earth.
Speaking off, Disney World has the best beneits in the world—including France, Italy, or New Orleans, whichever foreign country they are from…
(now didn’t that blog just make you feel so much more informed about the world around you?)