I bought a new pair of jeans Saturday. I got home and - yup - they don’t fit. I should have known. The scale told me so that morning but I ignored it.
When I stepped on it, the scale screamed back at me: You now weigh what you did in your last month of pregnancy four years ago!
And I’m not pregnant. Not even a teeny bit. Certainly not 9 months along.
I don’t work out. I don’t have the best eating habits. I sit in front of a computer 8 hours a day.
I should just let it go. But it glared at me.
So what did I do? I set out to defy the reading. I bought new jeans in the same size as my current jeans - which are a bit tight.
Come on. It’s the same size. I should be able to get more than one hip in them!
But nope. I couldn’t.
I run around with my kids when we’re together the other 16 hours a day (OK, minus the 9 hours of sleeping, but sometime I get exercise then too as I kick my way into a spot on the bed). Certainly that’s got to count for something.
My Wii fit told me the last time I used it that it’d been 92 days since my previous workout.
That sounds about right. Oh, and that was three weeks ago.
Shouldn’t my “tornado” ways at work, jumping from one project to another, count as a daily workout?
Worrying about the kids: that’s got to be, what, 20 calories an hour?
Typing 90 words a minute - 90 calories, right?
Driving to school, to daycare, to work, to assignments, and back again: where’s the love?
I feel 19 in age - hardly the 38 I really am - that should give me extra credit!
Writing this blog - another 50 burned, right?
Oh well, I’ll figure it out. Otherwise, there’s nothing wrong with returning the jeans.
I’d rather have the right size and be comfortable anyway.