It's the scale's fault. I didn't do anything to deserve that wretched number. Seriously, 130...again! You've got to be kidding me. I know I ate like a teenage boy all weekend, but the number just keeps going up. I thought I was in the 120s forever. WRONG! I hate you, scale. You're mean, you're ugly, and you don't share.
My workout was extra long this morning. I had to stop and come back 50 thousand times to tend to potty training tasks, upload pictures on this dumb computer, answer the phone, and let a man in to pick up products he needed for a surgery. I felt like I worked out for 4 hours. I didn't even get to do ab ripper x because the kids needed fed. They always need fed!
Well, as you can tell, my attitude is great. The only positive thing I have to say is my sweet husband got me lots of new workout clothes for my birthday. Apparently he's already sick of the 'maternity sweatpant and sports bra from high school' look I've been sporting each morning. Now he can enjoy looking at a chubby highlighter working out next to him BRIGHT and early.
Day 17, I hate you.
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