Lame excuse post

40 weeks left
? pounds lost
15 months until the wedding

This will forever be known as the lame excuse post. In the future, sometime in the next 9 months (only 9 months left!!) in one of my posts, I’m certain there will be a footnote, and the footnote will read * See Lame Excuse post. This, my friends, is that very post. Keep ‘er bookmarked.

For those of you who read this blog for humor, you can skip it today. For those of you who read this for wedding updates or updates on how J is doing, you can also skip. For those of you who read for wit, wisdom, or insights…big skip. The only thing this post is going to do is offer some fabulous restaurant tips, and some less-than-fabulous excuses for yet ANOTHER week of not posting anything in the ol’ “L-B-S lost” category. That, and provide you future reference when I say things like *See Lame Excuse post.

So, I feel sorta bad about the fact that I have fallen off the diet wagon. Actually, let me clarify. I haven’t really fallen off the wagon per se. (Excuse 1) It’s not like I’ve been “Oooo, I’m so good with my diet except today when I have the overwhelming urge to eat this entire pizza.” That’s a fallen off the wagon moment. It’s more like, I have decided to park the diet wagon in the barn for a few weeks and find alternate (incredibly indulgent) modes of diet transportation (like say, a Hummer.) When the diet began, I gave myself permission to park said diet wagon for a few special events. It just so happens that all those special events are taking place back to back to back (to back, to back…) But I fear, the wagon, she is getting rusty.

Remember three weeks ago when I gained three pounds over a four day weekend because I was in DC at birthday parties and weddings all weekend? Yeah, clearly I wasn’t going to go into my friends’ parties and say “Excuse me, but those million dollar catering jobs and fabulous cakes you’ve got there that you’re offering me as part of your glorious (assorted) celebration feasts? Yeah, those look really nice. Any chance you’ve got some string cheese in the back?” I’m thinking that’d be considered rude. (Excuse 2)

And the *next* (four day) weekend when I was both truthfully on the road and didn’t have access to a scale but ALSO truthfully went to New York City for the weekend and ate my weight in South American food? (I have a serious weakness for South American food on which I blame my time living in DC, both NEXT TO some of the best South American food ever [Café Salsa in Old Towne Alexandria and the Banana Café in Eastern Market] but also because I lived with my dear Colombian roommates who cooked all the time and treated me to their goodness on the regular.) And since the small, in-the-mountains town in which I currently reside offers no such goodness and because while I was in NYC there was an arepa bar *literally* around the corner from where I was staying, (Excuse 3) I gotta be honest. The diet was not, at that point, on the brain. (If ever in the greater NYC area, please find yourself immediately at Caracus and order the De Pabellon arepa and the Yoyos. It’s possible that the yoyos changed my life in a small way, yet not insignificant way. My dear friend who was with me that day actually proposed marriage to them. And somehow, in the moment, marrying a fried plantain ball filled with cheese didn’t even seem weird.)

So I know what you’re thinking. “What’s the no weigh-in excuse THIS week?!” I’ve got another solid one. (Excuse 4) If you can even believe it, this weekend, I was away, again (again…I’ve mentioned that I travel, yes?) at the wedding of two of my best friends in the world (P.S. how cool is it that two of my best friends actually married each other? Amazing. There’s another post coming soon about the wedding. Stay tuned.) And being in a wedding like this means three days full of rehearsal dinners, drinking too much champagne, having fabulous wedding food and cake, going to lunches and brunches and tastings (oh my!) with the wedding party. All of it. And I wouldn’t have traded a single bite of any of it all weekend long. But when I dragged my tired backside home last night, full of wedding bloat and fried seafood, getting on the scale just really didn’t seem a priority, or you know, a good idea for my mental health. I mean, come on! Yet again…I was in a great food city. I was in Baltimore! How am I not going to eat delicious fresh seafood when I’m in the Salty Balty? (Excuse 5) True, I probably could have gone steamed or grilled instead of beer battered and deep fried, but seriously, the place made their own potato chips seasoned with Old Bay *just* like J makes for me! (Excuse 6) (Was that totally shameless right there? Justifying eating the crazy fried goodness because I miss J? Wow. Totally going to relationship hell for that one. But as an aside, the chips, not as good as J makes.)

So now here’s the problem. I leave *again* on Thursday for ten days on the road. The first week, I will be at the beach on a bit of a “family” vacay. I’ll for sure have the option of grilled veggies and fresh fruit while I’m there. (I’ve got money on me hitting the creperie and Grotto Pizza.) I drive straight from the beach to Philly to J’s big family reunion Pig Roast in which half the city turns out for a block party to share the best.bbq.food.ever in portions bigger than your head (I’m unreasonably excited about this…) And come on! How can I say no to the in-laws and their delicious food? (Excuse 7) (P.S. Someone please bring the red pie. Please? Seriously. I’ll pick it up myself. Just tell me where.)

I should probably just man up, step on the scale now, and see what kind of damage I’ve actually done. Truth of the matter is, my goal originally was a pound a week. J’s been gone for 13 weeks. And I’m fairly sure that I haven’t gained SOO much back that I’m off that mark. Granted 4 weeks ago I was at 22 pounds down. (But that’s why this is an average over a long period of time, right.?) Because, for example, the ten days J has his leave…and then Thanksgiving…and Christmas…yeah, they are gonna be big eats days as well. And that’s gonna have to be ok. (No excuse.)

But perhaps, metaphorically speaking, I need to trade in the Hummer, and buy, say, a dieting Smartcar to get me from place to place while I polish the rust off the ol’ diet wagon. I’ll get back on it hard-core in time, but for now, I’m going to try to enjoy my summer travels, and indulge just a little bit, relaxing all my routines for a few moments of complete downtime. Lame excuse or not, it’s one I’m sticking to.