So I saw this plug for Candice Bergen’s memoir the other day. The fashion and entertainment icon (why wasn’t she really utilized in the SNL 40-year reunion?) says she’s put on 30 pounds and has no problem being considered fat. Because she lives to eat.
In my heart, I feel the same. But because my concern about my heart outweighs my love of nosh, I just can’t.
If you’re starting to see a pattern in my posts, yes, this has always been a problem. I tried to conquer it at The Biggest Loser Resort. Worked for a few days.
When I was packing for my Eastern & Oriental Express train trip in Asia, I’d also packed on a few. I had two weeks to squeeze into my wardrobe.
Now, I’m going to Belgium on a personal mission: chocolate taste-testing. I’m going for the chocolates and staying for the sights, which look (almost) as enticing.
Of course I’ve been indulging all winter, with a girth faintly resembling that of a snowman. Now’s the time I’d be getting seriously getting in shape for spring. But now this trip’s coming up.
I have exactly one week to get myself somewhat together. (For the record, I don’t do crazy stuff. Just sensible eating and exercising. Believe me, I know how to do it the right way.)
Then heading straight for Candyland and caloric annihilation.
Only if I let it.