This morning I had a wake-up call. No not the kind where you are lounging on a bed surrounded by down comforters and pillows, where the front desk associate calls and says, "Ms. Calista, this is your morning wake up call, coffee and breakfast will be up Post Haste." Hey I can dream right?
It also was not the "MMMOOOOOMMMM" wake up call at 630 am on a Saturday. If my kids ever discover the wonder of sleeping till 8am, I will be out of my skin with excitement, and maybe I will actually start saving money on that vat of concealer I am forced to buy to cover my dark circles which I might add have become permanently affixed to my face! I am not even 35 yet, and this seems like a crime against nature!
Nooo... I only wish it was one of those 630 am wake up calls that I am writing to bitch about. Instead, it was one of greater proportions (literally)... Get where I am going? That's right girls, I am going to the scale. I was kind of excited. I have exercised consistently for a whole week, I even broke a sweat on more than one occasion and I have avoided wheat, which I have discovered doesn't like me nearly as much as I adore it. As soon as I step on it, I swear the scale starts gasping for breath, I stare now suddenly nervous. The numbers pop up, and my eyes pop out! Noooo!!! It can't be. I stare at the scale, kind of afraid to move, I envision me stepping off and springs suddenly flying out... I decided it had to be wrong. So I step off, pick up the scale, shake it around, because I am pretty sure by this point the batteries might be low. I resume the position and step on again... Drat! Same number. Well, then I realize, I am wearing a pretty heavy tissue tee, a bra, skivvies and pants. I drop all that, and get on assured the number will be better... it was... by one pound... Ugh...
Well this was certainly a wake-up call!!! I have to do something, I have to be motivated and maybe this wasn't the best time to get my Girl Scout cookie order delivered... Thin Mints... Ha!