Losing my tuchas (OY-T)

Quite literally, now that I'm beating myself up in the gym on a regular basis.


One of my coworkers snuck up on me today and whispers to me, "You're losing
your behind." And I asked her, "Is there any special reason you're watching
my behind, because I'm a married lady." And she just said she noticed there
was less butt since I stopped ordering from Nice Chinese Guy and Pizza Guy
Who Makes Mistakes With My Orders.

Today I knocked off 45 minutes on this thing called an elliptical machine.
don't know how to describe it except after 45 minutes the monitors said I
lost my lunch, literally: I'd eaten up, so to speak, 545 calories on the
thing. Then i did my weights, and what was supposed to have bee 5 min utes on
the treadmill turned into 30, because there are TV monitors attached and
Jeopardy was on.

Of course I had to ruin it by getting a chicken sandwich with fries afterward.
I'm so sick of celery right now I could hit something.

And so things don't get too OT, I look forward to going to bed. I'm beat. And
Stosh will be there to give me my rubdown.

Tomorrow I take my Little Guy in for his physical. I'm still nervous after
Odessa-Dolly's trouble last year. Never mind that Stosh is as strong as an ox,
and built like one. And after the appointment, not only do we expect over 90
degrees tomorrow, it's the Taste of Buffalo, the second largest food fair in
the US. Only Chicago's is bigger. And of course we have to go. We have so
little in Buffalo. We have to eat damn it! Say a few for my boy's doctor trip
tomorrow please, and for my waistline. And my butt that threatens to hang on
during a weekend food orgy.

Blessed be,
Baha

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