Man-creature and I have a favorite place to go on movie dinner dates. It's an old-timey theatre that was first opened by Paul Newman and is still locally owned and operated. They serve all sorts of tasty
(greasy, salty, sugary, carby, fatty) stuff, both in-house and delivered from the mom 'n pop pizza place down the street. It's cheap and excellent and my favori-- I mean the worst possible place to be today.
Today, the first day of
my own personal hell the rest of my life, man creature says (luckily before I decided what to have for lunch) "hey let's go to
Studio 35 for dinner." Holy fucking shit. So I can choose between wings, pizza, and a sub for my last meal of the day? Wow, you mean I can pick any of these 600+ calorie options? How wonderful! But, determined to live my life and not let bitchy fat lumps get in MY way, off to dinner and a movie I went. I walked in with an 874 calorie deficit on my day and left with 30 to spare.
My
imaginary friends, THAT is called eating like a weight-shifting lady despite a man-creature's attempts to trick you into ordering (cheesy) pretzel bites, beer, and a large popcorn with your toned-down Italian sub and Diet Coke.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to turn my 30 calories into a piece (just one, mind you) of well-deserved
Skinny Cow Chocolate and tuck myself in, because men don't know how to go to bed on time... I suspect mine will be up playing his game until at least 3 am.
P.S. - Day two of
Couch to 5k starts in 7.5 hours. Bring it.
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