So we've been travelling. And after all our vacationing and cruising and eating and drinking and weight gaining the last few weeks, Mark signed us up for a 12 week "nutrition program." He made our appointment and sent me an email that read like this:
Tomorrow
5:30
Fat Farm
The first day on the plan we were watching TV with the volume cranked up in an effort to drown out the sound of our growling stomachs -- Top Chef was not the best viewing choice -- and he looked over at me and yelled:
"You know in the cartoons when two characters are stranded on an island, starving, and one of them looks at the other and sees a big fried chicken leg?"
"Yeah. What do I look like to you right now?"
"A chocolate Entenmanns donut."
Aside from starving, also on the plan is cardio! And stretching! Last week, at the advice of my fitness coach (who will hereafter be referred to as The Exer-Sadist) I went to a "PiYo" class at the gym.
I thought PiYo stood for "Pizza and Yogurt" a strange combination but I like one of those things, so I went. There was no buffet because apparently it stands for "Pilates and Yoga." If you do this stuff maybe you can tell me: was Joseph Pilates a Nazi?
