So, at the weekly worship service today, we had what we call a Mingle after the traditional 3-hour block. I've not attended a family ward in many many years, but in a Singles ward this means there is some sort of sustenance provided for ward members every 3-4 weeks with the idea that we will sit together and build ward comradery and in the case of Singles wards, talk to someone of the opposite sex with whom we would like to consider for eternal matrimony. Nothing says forever like a pasta line or potato bar, am I right?
Today we had such a Mingle and the food provided fluctuates from legitimate meals to dessert or snacky type selections. Cinnamon Rolls, HUGE Cinnamon Rolls, and hot chocolate was on the menu today. Now listen, I'm not one to complain about my Ward preparing and providing free food, in fact I encourage it! But I also am aware that the Holidays amongst other life things over the last 3 months has not been kind to my physical appearance, that is to say, I'm one chubby bunny.
So having even half the cinnamon roll and cup of hot chocolate with accompanying marshmallows I did wasn't the most thought out decision if I truly I'm trying to get back on the "feel better about my self and at least pretend like you care" wagon. To further this sense of sugar-guilt, a wardy I was sitting by felt compelled to tell me there is some Ward Activity in the works that will involve hot springs. And if it involves hot springs, it will involve... oh dear heaven above... wearing a swim suit. Wearing a swim suit among many other singles wearing a swim suit who all have the same goal in mind - to become NOT single in 2013.
The. Pressure. Is. On.
Mid-March, apparently, is the time frame I'm working under. It's time to get serious about getting dead sexy. What? Lets not beat around the bush - sure I look "meh" in some jeans and baggy sweatshirt now - but THOSE days are about to end (thank heavens, we've been living in a icy hell), and soon it will be time to show what your mama gave ya! At least... some of what mama gave ya. And mama didn't give no love-handles and saddle bags. Mmm hmmm. No sir.
Thus, starting TOMORROW it's time to get serious. It's not that I haven't been going to the gym and making an attempt to eat better - but those efforts have been half-butted (what? Remember how I'm not swearing anymore? This is what's left - butted). No more of THAT! If I'm not going to faint, puke, or DIE... then I am not working hard enough. Tomorrow begins my first attempt at fainting or puking... I'll leave the dying for when I finally can buy a pass for Bikram Yoga. Dear Tax Return, chop chop. I've got a deadline.
So if they're any secrets, thoughts, advice, or suggestions you have that would make me truly commit to becoming the next Jillian Michaels, don't hesitate to share!