Evil Genius Plans

I came home today full of hopeful purpose.  Hub was working late and I had the whole house to myself.  That calls for a YAY in itself because let’s face it, as much as you love your one and only, there are times that you just want to be alone.  This was one of those times.

I had a plan.  I was going to come home and exercise.  I need privacy for that kind of shit, especially after such a long *ahem* hiatus.  I am completely sure that I am going to look like a giant red-faced beach ball on legs.  I may even fall down, you just don’t know.  This is the kind of stuff that does not make for a spectator sport.

So I came home and I dug out my exercise clothes because you have to have gear for this stuff.  There are things that need to be strapped down, tightened up, and cinched to within an inch of their lives or it will all just go horribly wrong.

Almost brand-new running shoes I’ve had for over a year because I don’t run anymore?  Check.  Oversized t-shirt to cover the flab rolls?  Check.  Spandex-lycra-kevlar-don’t-let-the booty-bounce workout pants?  Ultra-thin moisture-wicking socks?  Check and check.

What’s missing here?  Oh yeah, the cast-iron triple-ply workout bra.  The one that assures no one, namely me, loses an eye whilst making an ass out of myself or that the girls don’t tie themselves in a knot because of all the reckless bouncing.  I had three of them in my drawers drawer and yet none of them would go around my great girth.  The only one that would have fit I gave away in a misguided attempt to keep the fat at bay.  Because everyone knows that if you don’t get rid of your fat clothes the fat will come back.

Diet myth number 8495, busted.

The fat comes back anyway.  Giving away your fat clothes isn’t a magic voodoo ritual guaranteed to keep the fat away forever.   I would have had better luck getting Lisa Bonet to do the chicken dance in my backyard under a full moon.  Unless you are constantly vigilant, it comes back.   Unless you find new coping tools when life gives you lemons, it comes back. You have to actually work it, baby.

Yeah, I know.  Fuckballs.  Big hairy ones.

So here’s the new plan.  Are you  ready?  Because it’s genius, just bloody fucking genius!

I’m going to give away my skinny clothes!

It will work just like giving away my fat clothes, except in reverse.  Fucking brilliant, right?

Seriously I should have been an evil genius mastermind because my talents are just being wasted.