Monday, May 10, 2010

There was a time when "pregnant" was a dirty word

I promise to increase my blogging frequency. I promise to increase my blogging frequency. Okay, I've said it twice, so that means it will happen. I just don't say Candy Man three times, or even twice for that matter. I don't want to take any chances.

I am back into the full swing of things. I started training again last week with full gusto, okay 1/2 gusto during an hour session with stalker trainer and BFF Robin. I continued the week with two more sessions at 1-1/2 hours and another at 2 hours. Oh yeah baby, paint the Super Hero suit on me now.

I also played golf three days last week. No, I did not walk. I have a CART bag, not a "whatever you call those bags you carry." I think there is a strict rule you shouldn't walk with a cart bag. It's an unspoken rule so don't ask anybody about it. It's like back in the old days - no one talked about women being pregnant, they would just say, oh yes Pearl, "she's in the family way," in a light, hushed whisper. I know it sounds crazy, but it is absolutely true.

I haven't weighed myself this week. I'm waiting until I start feeling some other protruding bones I've never felt before. I might have some hip bones hibernating somewhere. I know I'm making some headway. I have to be, because I'm truly suffering right now. How? You say.

I quit drinking. I know, what's up with that? Well..... when I say I quit drinking, I mean I quit Sunday through Thursday. Okay I quit Sunday through Thursday when I'm home for the evening......okay, and when I don't have any company over. This is deprivation. I think I know how those people feel who go on eight-day cleanses.

It's sad for my daughter though, because she doesn't get a hot meal anymore for dinner. I'm sure you've heard of the book, "The Joy of Cooking." Well, in fine print that only I, as a Super Hero can read - it stipulates the requirement for you to have a glass of fine wine in your hand to master the actual "joy" of cooking. I follow instructions to the letter of the law. If I can't have wine - there will be no hot cuisine. I'm kidding of course, she can still have heated-up kid's cuisines from our grocer's freezer. I'm not a total monster.

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