The Comedy of Errors, or as I like to call it: yesterday
I had a great day yesterday. I had a horrible day yesterday. I had both. It was long with lots of stops (lots of wine sales though). Returned home at 9:00 pm from a busy and insane day. Collapsed and passed out at 10:00.
The gent with whom I worked was fun and funny and we laughed a lot. Appointments canceled last minute, I had to scramble to find more appointments (success!). We lunched at a restaurant nestled into one of the canyons while waiting for the Buyer to show and had wild salmon with asparagus and a yummy butter sauce. Drove all over and got stood up at a high end restaurant out at the beach. High tailed it to an account that's a huge fan of the wines we had and I ate the meat out of some Korean tacos that my new friend ordered.
Lots of traffic, lots of wine cases sold (25+ of expensive wine), lots of fun, lots of schmoozing and dumb assed jokes on my part. No workout but will hit it tonight with a long walk and tomorrow will smack some weights around.
Whisper sweet nothings to me...
The sane and logical part of me realises that a 4 lb (!!!) gain on the scale has little or nothing to do with gaining fat on my body especially given how I eat and move. However, the somewhat neurotic Sherlock Holmes that resides deep, deep inside of me has a terrible need to find the clues that would lead to uttering, "Elementary, my dear Watson, it's clearly <fill in the blank with hidden reason why 4 lbs irreverently showed up on Grokalicious' teeny frame.">.
Such is not the case. The scale is absolutely not whispering sweet nothings to me, and is, in fact, growling at me to stay the eff off. And, so, I shall. My clothes are loose, I feel amazing, what else is there? So, off I shall stay until the New Year. I am not letting a scale dictate how I feel.
I had a bite this week with an old lifelong friend who has a hard time with how she looks. She's skinny fat but loathes herself and will do anything and everything in her power to put others down in some feeble attempt at shoring up her own ego and self esteem. And, complains over and over and over, ad nauseam, that she's fat. She gleefully informed me that when I get to be her age that I too will be overweight and out of shape regardless of how I eat and work out. Really, it just made me sad for her. She obsessively weighs herself, compares herself and complains. If I hadn't known her since I was 7 years old, I'd bid her a permanent adieu as her wallowing and complaining just wear thin (ha!) after a while. I see her about 3 times a year for old time's sake and do care about her, so that is that.
Off to the gym. Lifting, planking, and sprinting later. Sundays rule!