I ate this last night. Mostly with a fork.
OK, first of all, this "W5D3" or "W7D34" junk I'm doing to label the days in the titles of these blogs? Well, it just looks stupid -- like it's the name of a product you'd find in the automotive department at Walmart. Because I go there so dang much and all.
Anyway, I've been rather sucky about blogging this week, y'all, sorry! I have no good reasons other than I get to workin' here at my desk, look up at the clock, realize it's nigh to 5 p.m., and I'm all, "Umm ... No."
But here it is 5:15 p.m. Friday, and I'm still here -- and, according to my jeans, which I haven't been able to wear since a week or two before Christmas, STILL LOSING FAT! Notice I didn't say "losing weight," as I haven't happened upon Mr. Scales this week. Just as sure as rain and a July Fourth picnic, I'll hop on that thing, and it'll read 215 or something wicked like that. No thanks. I'm going by how my clothes feel, and more and more things in my closet are feelin' groovy.
Very quick synopsis of my vittle intake: Egg whites with spinach and/or oatmeal every morning; some kind of chicken or fish salad, or low-fat chicken pasta (Thursday -- ugh) for lunch; and a smaller version of whatever I just said at dinner, with fruit and veggies figuring into all three.
Thursday night, however, I broke down and had about 1/2 to 2/3 cup of potato salad, plus a nice serving of brisket. By "nice," I mean about twice what I should have. But no dessert! That's gotta count for something.
OK, my weekend has left without me. I'll be back on the morrow, though, to tell y'all some really, REALLY embarrassing things that have been happening in the gym. Surprise, surprise.
Peace, love and brisket ... xoxo
