The Time Has Come, The Walrus Said
I have resisted getting on the scale since I returned from Los Angeles, but now it is no longer avoidable: I have gained 3lbs in TWO WEEKS, showing you exactly how being home at my parents’ might have been good for the psyche but terrible on the waistline. This negates the 10lbs I lost last year so now my resolution is to lose 15lbs, not 5. I did it last year. I can do it again. (If you read that last paragraph and tell me my math is screwy, don’t worry, I already know it is. I haven’t gained back all the weight, but I would like to lose more than I lost last year. So nyah.)
Last night the diet went to shit because I had a drink with Sofa. ONE DRINK. I am now hungover. This always seems to happen when I’m out with my darling Sofa; I know I’ve drunk more than this before and have felt fine the morning after, but whenever my blonde friend suggests we go to a bar, I wake up feeling like death. I even made it home before midnight like a good Cinderella, but no. I have a manuscript to write an editorial letter for and my own novel to revise today, as well as my mother to see tonight and I just want to return to bed and curl up with a White-Harp.
Well, the handmade/being crafty resolution is still going strong. Because Bear and I didn’t see each other over Christmas, we decided to exchange gifts this weekend when we get to see each other. The gift I’m giving him isn’t handmade, but how I wrapped it is certainly crafty.








