Raise your hand if you’ve gained the Covid 15. This pretend cowgirl is right there with ya. I’ve always thought as long as my foot size didn’t change and my spanx didn’t complain, then why worry about the rest…right?
Ummm…no.
As much as I hate to admit it to myself and all of you, I am out of control with desserts. The cakes, the cookies, the muffins and all of the other delights that call to me…especially my beloved M&M’s, I BLAME YOU. I blame you for this muffin top and I blame you for these jiggly arms because obviously I can not blame myself. That would just be wrong (by anyone’s standards.)
For the first time in my life, my spanx are staging an intervention and all of the sugary deliciousness that I have come to love has decided to claim permanent residency on my hips.
There I said it. I have absolutely NO self control.
ME: (Talking to Cowboy as my spanx and I are having a come to Jesus meeting) I can’t take it anymore. WE ARE GOING ON A DIET!
COWBOY: I’m just fine. And you look perfect to me.
ME: Aww you’re sweet to say that, but I see my reflection in the mirror. And it speaks the truth.
COWBOY: Why is it that when YOU get a little fluffy, I have to go on a diet?
ME: Sooo, you think I’m fluffy as in FAT? Is that what you’re saying?
Cricketts churping…
Cowboy has left the bathroom. This is all of his fault.
’til next Sunday y’all- xo Tammy๐
