What a weekend. I can’t do a weigh-in because I’m in Long Beach, California with my lovely mother. I’m pretty sure I’ve been tested in every possible way when it comes to diet in the past couple of days.
Airplane: I did eat the disgusting little pack of Quaker Fiber Munchies or whatever they’re called on the plane, and chowed down on half of a gyro in the car on the way to the airport. Gyros, in case anyone was confused on this point, are NOT ideal car or diet food. I would’ve probably eaten the whole darn thing if I wasn’t indiscriminately splattering tzatziki all over the car. I even found the remains of a tomato down my shirt later. Mmmmmm.
Bar (after the airplane): Mike ate a steak dinner to follow up his car gyro, and I split a spinach salad with the mama. Good choices, I think, but I marred the whole idea with a gin and tonic. AND I really had already eaten dinner, noted above. To make up for it The Bob (step-dad) was rocking out with his band at this particular bar. So Mom and I, urged on by the colorful clientele at Bruce’s, got down and funky and danced the night away.
I SAW MY LIFE FLASH BEFORE MY EYES! And it was well-fed.
I'm a survivor!
This little tidbit really has no bearing on my diet. But it was terrifying to it must be shared. Before breakfast the gaggle of us ran out of gas on the second high rise of the Long Beach Bridge connecting the Los Angeles Harbor to Long Beach. It’s a monster of a bridge, and the car managed to die just over the hill on the very steep high rise. As it turns out, this is a perfect spot for a tiny blue Volkswagen Rabbit to hide from semi-trucks barreling down the road from the harbor. Hide, but not well enough, because as soon as those semis rose to the top of the bridge: surprise! Little stalled blue Rabbit sitting there, waiting to be pancaked. We sat like that for about ten minutes before our nerves were so frayed from semis coming within 50 feet at 60 miles per hour that we had to jump on some kind of action. We lived to share the experience, but not before Mike and I were out on the highway waving like madmen to divert traffic and three policemen came (prompted by a 911 call in which all three of us were screaming in terror into the phone as particularly close call occurred) to block the lane down the hill.
Then we ate breakfast, which I think is the right thing to do after any near-death experience. I ate a crepe with fresh fruit. No added sugar. Pretty good, I’d say. Especially with the duress of the morning.
The major achievement in terms of diet for the weekend was that I managed to slip off my wedding ring while we were sitting at (a very healthy) dinner. I’ve learned over the years that my fingers are an excellent weight indicator. I was not one of those people who was blessed with long, delicate, feminine fingers and slender nails. Mine, even at more flattering weights, resemble sausages that someone taped sea shells to. But those sausage casings are amazingly flexible and I swear I gain and lose weight in my fingers before anywhere else. So it’s been quite a few months since I’ve been able to easily remove my wedding ring, and yesterday was the moment when I finally could.
Today is my final day of our Long Beach adventure. I’m giving myself two gold stars for being reasonably well behaved on vacation, assuming today is a (calmer) day of success.