And so it begins

Nearing the end of my 20s, I'm starting to think I should maybe get my act together in various segments of my life. One of these areas needing improvement would be the over-sized lump that my stomach has turned into, with footnotes of my 2nd and now 3rd chin. I am finally starting to concede that the blessed metabolism of my youth has finally gone the way of the dodo. The more-of-me-to-love is a result of the past few [read: 10] years of my wonderful Just-Say-Yes diet and non-existent exercise regime. It's a simple enough formula: I like food and hate moving. I am by no means morbidly obese or in any danger healthwise, but it's no fun when your pants hurt to button. Plus, I am always tired and I'm starting to resent the energy those bratty Somerville High kids that I take the bus with always seem to have oozing out of them.

So, in an effort to stick to some kind of program and yield positive results, I've decided to embrace my inner-geek and blog my getting in shape experiences. Based on my flexibility [ha] and penchant for bagels, it should be hilarious. And speaking of hilarious, the title for my blog has been inspired by our recent trip to Montreal...where we went explicitly to sleep late, eat tons of deliciousness and drink wine. Mission Accomplished overall, but back to the title:

Our first night there, after walking what felt like 3 miles [or 47 kilometers...whatever] to get the lay of the land, we wind up in this little garden level, super-cute Italian joint. Family run, the husband greets and seats you, the wife fills your water glass and brings you menus, so adorable. It was a beautiful summer night, so I had decided to wear one of those flowy summer tops that look put together but are still soooo comfy. Upon entering, Darling asks for a table for two and the husband immediately brings us over to a table mumbling in a Welcoming Old Man French/English and looking at my belly ".....yes, for two-AND-A-HALF" *smile, smile*. Ed and I look at eachother. Did I just hear that right? I'm not used to the accent yet and my ears suck. Needless to say, upon bringing us [warm!] bread and setting up our places, there is a bit more gesturing and smiling, all around my mid-section, with proud side glances over to Ed. Confirmed, he thinks I'm one and a half. Not the first time it's happened, but the first time it's had its own catch-phrase. Awesome.

Ed and and I laugh, I make some kind of obligatory joke but then I remember we brought our own wine, and a nice bottle! I will not have this guy thinking I'm willingly FAS'ing my unborn, so I know I have to let him know there is no fetus in the hizzouse. He comes over to take our orders, I unintentionally ask how big one of the pasta dishes is and he answers that it will be perfect for me and junior. That's my cue, "Ha ha ha, yeah but there's no half" and I for some reason [low blood sugar?] feel the need to further humilate myself by flattening my shirt to my stomach to back this up and then saying, "But don't worry, I still eat like one and a half". Good times all around. I make sure to bust his balls on the way out, in a gentle manner. Nice way to start a vacation; at least this gave Darling something to chuckle about the rest of the trip.

Back to now, it's Labor Day weekend, vacation is over. Today is August 30th...where the hell did the summer go? Regardless, my dear friend/running [read: walk and talk shit with occasional 2 minute jogs in between] buddy Erin and I have agreed to do a 5k on October 4th. All those motivational articles say to set something up that you have to stick to. This will be the first of little goals to be met, to-do lists work for me at my job and always worked during school, so I'll give it a shot. Plus, I have other motivating factors-
1. I need something to blog about.
2. As I type this, my 62 year old dad just registered for his second marathon of the year in San Antonio. He is like that LaFontaine? or PreFontaine? dude. If he can run like that, something must've trickled down genetically, maybe I just need to kick it off...
3. Ed, understandably, has very little faith that I'll stick to this. Proving him wrong would be sweet. Not sweet like the third of the XXL Toblerone [god bless Duty Free!] that I inhaled at 10:30 last night, but still quite satisfying.

With that verbose intro, I'm supposed to be tracking my food and exercise crap right? Here goes: I slept like shit [allergies + landlord having floors downstairs done AT 8 AM ON A SATURDAY] and was lazy so I went to DD for breakfast, per usual: a HEC on a croissant and a large tea with skim and 2 Splendas. Croissant was NOT worth it. As penance, I'm now off to sit on the bike for an hour. Last year, on a health kick, Darling went and got us a very nice exercise bike for our living room - I have no excuses! It's 85 and muggy out, so I'll watch Intervention and bike up fake hills. Living the dream.