Why... why does my scale continue to mock me? I eat well, and not too much, I just got a kick A$$ jogging stroller and am dutifuly running up these godforsaken hills. T and I do yoga and keep food diaries. And yet... there's a wedding in the offing (not mine) and I can't fit into ANY of my vast and admittedly over the top collection of pretty frocks. Ah well. I'm sure I can squeeze my bulk into a leopard print muu-muu.
I'm not enjoying my... erm... bazzooms. To quote Sugar in Some Like it Hot, "Clothing just doesn't hang well on me."
Ah well, the world should have my problems.
But still! My C scar aches and pulls when I'm working out... I wonder if that's normal. Thank god for Pilates, at least there is an Ab down there somewhere. And Lionel is an excellent weight. I can work my pecs, triceps and biceps. I get on my back and heft him in all sorts of ways. He seems to like it, and my arms need the workout. He's progressive too. As he increases in weight I increase my reps. Pumpin' baby!