My life as I know it is officially over. Cereal, yoghurt, salad and fruits. That's going to have to be my life for the foreseeable future. The digital readout on the scales makes me think Jindal. CF casually tells me to use the treadmill at 6.5 to see the weight drop off in 2 months. 6.5 what??? Bloody gym bunny. I viciously jab at the beans of my lunch salad. I tell PM I'm depressed and she reminds me of the box of gelato I acquired last night, now languishing in my fridge and I groan. Bradley Cooper and the American Hustler is the reason for my double depression. A movie that has no clue what it wants to be and and tediously weaves it way through the last 10 minutes of what it's all about being compared to Good Fellas?? Really?!? A perfectly legitimate reason for all that gelato! Not to mention the catch cakes that were being sold next door.
Chirpy chappy at the gym had asked me what my goals were. Strike off to die happy from that list. His assessment of 3 times a week to get into shape in 3 months was a gross miscalculation. But then he hadn't realized the order of magnitude of the task any more than I had. There go my plans of canceling this most peculiar membership in a quarter.
My thighs and knees start to complain. Maybe I should just slather the gelato all over them instead.
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