Ice Cream and Booze

Yum ...

What a day!  I know all the real moms out there will want to kick my ass when I say this, but I felt more like a working mom than I ever have before.

I got up early and did housework, rushed off to work, worked hard, skipped lunch, stayed late, ran between three different offices on campus to see about getting my last name ALL the way changed (I get all my mail delivered to Veronica Marcetti-Dimick now, but I am still Veronica Marcetti in the computer system, so my schedule and my students' schedules still say that.  My quest ended in the same office I was in long ago, filling out the same form I filled out to get my name HALF changed.  So ... we will see.), stopped at the bank to deposit a check, rushed home, cuddled the animals, tried to convince Cleo to pee (she is usually too excited to see us to pee, even though she clearly has to), packed Cleo in the car, and rushed her to the vet. 

The vet was quite an adventure, but thankfully it only took half an hour.  When we got home, she got a fantastic walk (what a perfect temperature for a dog walk!!  I wore a sweatshirt, and I didn't have to roll up the sleeves AND I wasn't ever too cold.  Perfect.), then I did some more cleaning, sat down to create a big powerpoint presentation for one of my classes tomorrow (feel free to sit in tomorrow if you want to journey from Old English all the way to Modern English!), and am now taking a break.  At least I don't have to make dinner for at least another hour, since Jeremy is at his night class.

Anyway, I'm getting to my point.  I swear.

It involves that rushed trip to the vet.  And the fact that I feel like a working mom, but I am NOT a working mom, and therefore have no medical reason to look like I have baby fat hanging on to me that never went away.

While I was at the vet in my comfy pants and hooded CMU sweatshirt, I remembered to ask how much Cleo weighed.  Whooo-EEE!  She has gained a few pounds, and for a dog, that is a big deal (for the sake of Cleo's privacy, I will not include the exact number here.)  When we pulled out of the parking lot and I started discussing her recent weight gain with Cleo, I told her how unfair it was that Jeremy and the cat (also a male.  Figures.) were LOSING weight and her and I were GAINING weight.  F that!!

Okay, there isn't actually any EVIDENCE that I have gained weight (I don't believe in scales, and if you don't believe in something, it doesn't exist), but my pants have definitely gotten a little tighter, and I can no longer blame the laundry.

At any rate, it ISN'T FAIR.  Men have to make one teeny tiny adjustment to their lives and they lose weight, while women can make all the sacrifices in the world and still gain weight.  Jeremy has been riding the exercise bike pretty much every day of the week, and he has gone down five notches in his belt.  FIVE notches!!  We started giving MoJo (the cat) like FOUR fewer pieces of dry food than usual and he has slimmed right down and is as frisky as a kitten again.  I eat VERY healthy and ride the bike just as much as Jeremy, and I look three months pregnant. 

So I decided to do an honest self-evaluation.  While I make a great deal of excellent healthy choices, I do have two things that I simply adore and have no intention of eliminating from my life, no matter what those so-called "nutritionists" say: ice cream and booze (look, I got to my point!!)

I don't overindulge in either of these things, but I enjoy them.  But so does Jeremy!!  And his diet is NOWHERE as healthy as mine.  So I refuse to give up my bowl of Cookies and Cream or my Gin and Tonic with lime, because if it is impossible to get back to my high school weight (or even within 40 pounds of it), then I need SOMETHING to make me happy!  Am I right?  Ladies, I need some comfort here so I know I am not alone!