Tanking

My motivation is in the tank today, for many reasons, most of which are work related.

I know I should probably work out my frustrations on the bag tonight, but my evil voice is telling me to go home from work by way of Dairy Queen, get a burger --no, a cheeseburger with mayo, onion rings and a big old chocolate shake -- extra thick, put my gym clothes on, put on Fit TV, chow down while watching others work it, and go to bed.

I already consoled myself with a chocolate chip cookie from the bakery down the street -- it wasn't the SuperHuge Triple chocolate cookie, just a normal chocolate chip. Meager, really.

But like Mom makes.

With lots of Butter.

And Sugar.

And Chocolate.

At least I drank my coffee black, as if that smidgen of milk I would have used saved me from jumping off the caloric ledge.

If nothing else, I need to think of the weddings I have to go to next week -- one in Las Vegas, the other in San Diego. Think about the strapless bridesmaid dress, sans fat roll at the underarm and back of the dress. At least it's purple; I look good in purple. Think about the jiggle -- which will be well controlled by a good fitting pair of Spanx.

OR, what if I scrapped kickboxing for a pedicure?

Even Linda Hamilton has GOT to appreciate a nice pair of smooth feet and red piggy-toes . . .