Oh, How The Not-So-Mighty Have Fallen And Other Stuff

I promise you, I started out the week strong, strong, strong. And in my defense, I’ve done 20 to 35 minutes of light cardio and 10 to 15 minutes of toning, light weights and abdominal work every day since the New Health Regime took over. I plan to continue to increase this, by the way, but since the December/early January hiatus from exercise and because I am prone to various back, leg and foot ailments, I’m starting up again slowly to avoid injury.

By Saturday morning, I’d lost an inch around my waist and four pounds, which for me, She Who Gives Dieting A Bad Name, is a staggeringly impressive accomplishment.

And then, I’m not sure of the exact details as to how it happened, but I found myself at a restaurant on Saturday night.

We went early, hoping to catch the sunset over the marsh the restaurant overlooks. My pictures don’t do the view justice. It was beautiful, and relaxing, and it involved food that actually tastes good.

And, it was the first time I’ve been to a restaurant for dinner in a month, y’all.

Nevertheless, I remained steadfast, at first. While LCB ordered oysters, I opted for a salad, hoping to fill up on that before my meal arrived.

In truth, passing on the oysters, which I’m told were delicious, was more about the fact that I just don’t care for them. I’ve tried. I really have. In addition to trying them a handful of times in restaurants, I’ve been to two oyster roasts, and while they were great fun, the oysters I tried each time just, well, didn’t appear to me to be real friendly-like with my taste buds or my stomach. To put the unfriendliness in perspective, on the way home from the second oyster roast, I told LCB that, unless it’s on pain of death, no oysters will ever cross my lips again.

Anyhow, I may have also consumed a hush puppy or three, which appeared suddenly at my table without my foreknowledge or consent. And then my dinner arrived, which consisted of fresh vegetables. The vegetables were naturally accompanied by a crab cake and a mound of garlic mashed potatoes. Oh, and a glass of chardonnay to wash it all down, of course.

Oops.

It gets worse.

Chocolate mousse appeared in front of me after dinner, with my foreknowledge and complete consent.

Oh, she tasted, and she discerned that it was good, my friends, so she licked her bowl clean, that girl.

And thus, oh, how the not-so-mighty has fallen, and again demonstrated why she will not be giving out diet advice on her blog.

The descent continued, too, because, since our dinner was quite early and we stayed up quite late, late night munchies didn’t involve carrots and celery, oh no, but instead wine, Hershey Kisses and oddly enough, wheat crackers.

I’ve spent the last 36 hours doing an awkward interpretive dance of avoidance around the scale, because for one thing, I don’t want to have to report quantitative details on the damage done, and for another thing, I just don’t want to know.

Don’t worry, I’ve returned to food categorized as “the opposite of comfort food” again, and less of it, too.

Moving on to other developments, a few other things have happened around these here parts.

1. We now officially have our very own source of television in our very own home, after six months lived without it. I’m happy to report that Facebook and Twitter are no longer my primary source of off-island news. Like, I now know that Barbie has her own channel, and that the Food Network is risky viewing for those of us under The Regime. So clearly, I’m all up on the global news scene now.

2. On the painting-the-whole-interior-of-the-house front, we’ve spent a great deal of time discussing plans to go to the paint store to purchase the paint. Stay tuned for more riveting developments.

3. Baby-girl and I found a new section of beach to explore yesterday, where the tides cut deep and long into the shore. In part because there are fewer people walking and biking on the beach right now, we found several bivalve clam shells still intact. We even managed to get them home intact, too, which was no small wonder. We also discovered another beach “fort,” right in the middle of the beach.

4. My baby-girl is now learning to dance in cheerleading. I’m not sure how I feel about that. I mean, it’s cuter than just about anything, but I just watched a group of high school students dance last week, and, as experienced as I am at watching that as a teacher, I don’t think I’m quite ready to watch it as a parent. ‘Cause we all know I’ll blink, and then I will be, in fact, watching my high-school-aged daughter dancing.

Nope, I’m not ready for it.