Not the day that was envisioned. Started with the results of personal experiment. Haven't had a drink (of alcohol) in three weeks. Not a drop. Wanted PLENTY. Enjoyed none. Testing a theory that drinking has contributed negatively to Ye Ol Waistline. Was hovering around 186.5, beginning of the month. Weight today? One hundred and eighty three pounds. 183! And that was fully dressed, work shoes, wallet, keys, phone. Everything. Buck naked and exhaling, the scale may touch down as low as 180.
The results are great, and terrible. Great because of the weight loss. But it is terrible because it comes at the price of one of the last few guilty pleasures in my life. Sure, sure, sure. There's probably a happy middle ground. Maybe ONE beer won't add to my waistline. But one ain't ever enough. So the results of my experiment create a tough moral dilemma: indulge and accept the drag on my weight, or keep suffering.
And then, the rain. Not just a bit. Not just a storm. But a Message From God Sized deluge. Talking biblical proportions, man! Cats & dogs living together. Total anarchy! Could barely drive home. Let alone do the weekly pub run.
YYYYYArrrrrrrgh! Why did it have to turn out to be such a wild Wednesday?
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