Hello, friends! Sorry if you've been waiting for posts from beyond. I've been busy and the internets aren't as popular overseas. Here's the rub: I'm 11 days into my vacation and am loving every second. The people. The food. The sites. The language. The food again. My lack of self control has followed me to Lebanon. And this, when coupled with the fact that Lebanese people show love by Buddha-stuffing their relatives, is not exactly the best way to stay fit.
At this point, I am beginning to fear that I'll return to the States less as the decent looking gal with a sparkling personality and mild adult acne, and more as the Michelin Man's slightly tanned doppelganger.
Elastic pants or no, I'm happy as a clam. In fact, based on my current joy-to-weight gain ratio, I can only conclude that Santa's bowl-full-of-jelly belly was just the outward reaction to his inner bliss. That or he's a total stress eater...which I can also relate to.
Instead of kicking the baklawa to the curb, my plan is to live it up like a pregnant lady. Not the one who runs and swims and baby yogas. The one who claims to be eating for two, when really she only needs like 100 calories more a day. Which is true, by the way - 300 calories tops in the third trimester. Just a little something I picked up watching an ancient episode of Martha Stewart, where Doctor Oz stops by to pimp out his book on motherhood. Thanks, overseas syndication.
Anyway, my point is that there's only a week left and I'm not even planning to attempt some restraint. Because the food is irresistible. I'd make a cheesy music video* about it, but that old sass Robert Palmer beat me to the punch.
For the record, I tried to load six or so pictures of my recent meals no less than thirteen times. Alas, like my attempts at a killer middle school basketball career, I failed. And, because being poolside at Ehden Country Club sounds way more fun than staring at this unloading load bar, it looks like you're stuck with this shot of my breakfast (round one) from a few days ago.
*Did I say cheesy? I meant sexy. Fuscia silk shirt and white pants on picture day in third grade sexy.
Anyway, my point is that there's only a week left and I'm not even planning to attempt some restraint. Because the food is irresistible. I'd make a cheesy music video* about it, but that old sass Robert Palmer beat me to the punch.
For the record, I tried to load six or so pictures of my recent meals no less than thirteen times. Alas, like my attempts at a killer middle school basketball career, I failed. And, because being poolside at Ehden Country Club sounds way more fun than staring at this unloading load bar, it looks like you're stuck with this shot of my breakfast (round one) from a few days ago.
*Did I say cheesy? I meant sexy. Fuscia silk shirt and white pants on picture day in third grade sexy.
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