So apparently my scale is broken. I stepped on it this morning and nothing happened. I’m assuming the battery died, and it’s one of those large rectangular ones you never have anywhere else in your house, so I was SOL this morning for my weigh in. Sorry folks. But let’s just say I lost 30 lbs. and I’m wearing a bikini to work. Let’s just say that.
Here’s how I did, you be the judge:
Thursday: I have to tell you, I was craving a Chipotle burrito and chips so bad (and there’s no Chipotle near my office) that I went to Boloco for lunch. Not the same. The chips are like, from a supermarket. And I tried to be good – I got a whole wheat wrap and brown rice, but it wasn’t satisfying, it was a lot of points and I didn’t eat anything for the rest of the day. I went to basketball hungry and grumpy.
Friday: Still craving a Chipotle burrito and chips, I made it my life’s mission to get one as soon as possible. There was a time awhile back where I was certain that someone was putting sleeping pills in my burritos because as soon as I was finished eating one I would fall asleep. That’s still the case. Burrito count of the week so far: 2. Exercise: none. Things are not going well.
Saturday: To combat all the burritos, I decided Zumba was the only remedy. And I went to the South End BSC, because it’s the most intense Zumba class of them all. I know. I’ve been to every one. There was a new instructor this week, and I think she is a legit dancer, because before we began the workout she taught us the differences between all the Latin dances. I pretended it was a tryout for Dancing with the Stars, and I rocked it. Hard. I spent the rest of the day watching Season One of Glee because I was exhausted.
Sunday: I haven’t been to yoga in a really long time, and I decided to sneak in a class on Sunday. When I do yoga, I always look forward to the 5 or so minutes at the end of class where we cool down. And as I stare at the clock during class, I say to myself “ok, 20 minutes until the hour, that’s 15 more minutes of all this business, then I get to lay down on the mat with a towel over my face.” Well, 75 minutes into this yoga class and I was all like “what the eff, why are we still in Warrior One?” The yoga class was 90 minutes long, and I almost passed out and I didn’t want to leave because I’m pretty sure the instructor was a Nazi and she scared me. I still can’t lift my arms.
Monday: Monday was pretty nondescript. I really have nothing to say about Monday.
Tuesday: I had planned on going to the Central Square BSC for Zumba, but I forgot to pack my sneakers. I packed my gym clothes, a change of clothes, a sweatshirt, an umbrella, two pairs of socks and a baseball cap, but no sneakers. So I wandered home listlessly.
Wednesday: The only thing that keeps me going at this point is Coca-cola. I wish I could pump it straight into my blood system. I’ve had no exercise in three days and I’ve eaten my weight in burritos this week. No wonder the scale broke. It was a self-preservation motive. Let’s hope next week is better, and that I can find a replacement battery.
Next Week: It’s wedding month! Get it together!
NoMad Blogger 
I think I love you. My husband and I watched some Food Network show last night about famous food people and their favorite places to go. This episode was home-town favorites. I’m a sucker for Mexican food and we were introduced to manchacas and I spent the next 40 minutes looking for a place in town that made these beefy cheesy fried egg wonderments, only I’m pretty sure WeightWatchers wouldn’t approve so I just have to hang the menu up by my desk and hope. I may have to blog about this now, so if you peruse my blog and see this comment pretend like you’ve never read it before.