You Have the Right to Remain Silent

Sometimes while I'm running jogging trying not to die on the treadmill, my kids like to park themselves on the floor next to me and make helpful comments like, "Mommy, why is your face so red?"  "How come you're talking to yourself?" and my personal favorite, "Are you doing your exercise?"

Nope, just watchin' a show on the Ipad and felt like I needed to turn it into a full-body experience.

Michael has taken to talking about how many calories we're eating at every chance he gets, which is about as annoying as it sounds (we try not to make a big deal of it, and he doesn't have any idea that the calorie-counting is for anything beyond "Mom and Dad are trying to be healthier", but there is simply no way to get around the fact that we are weighing portions of our food at dinnertime).  He even asked his primary teacher if her refusal of a Dum Dum sucker meant she is counting her calories as well.

Son, there are a few things you should never ask a woman...

I really hate obsessing over food and talking about how much I am or am not exercising (seriously, this is me):

But I gotta say, I was really disappointed when I went to the dermatologist last week and he didn't ask me about my exercise habits.  I mean, I know he's a skin doctor and all, but this is the first time in my life I that I wouldn't have had to hem and haw and make a joke about doing half a lap around the gym back in 1999.

I've been exercising, dang it!  I want credit!

Actually, all I really want is more calories to eat.  Specifically calories of the Cadbury Creme Egg variety.  Which is pretty much the only reason I get on the treadmill.  Spend 30 minutes on the treadmill and you can eat two Cadbury Creme eggs!!  Wait... what?  Is that all?

I want my 30 minutes back.

But I'm trying to press on, even though last week I did have a bit of a breakdown after a terrible morning and ate 720 calories worth of sugar in like 5 minutes.  I texted David to tell him of my failure and he wrote back.

"I'm so sorry.  :(  Sounds good, thigh."

Oh, I get it.  Nice work on the subliminal messaging there, Autocorrect!

But you can be quiet now.