Repeat

According to recent research from Columbia University, active, educated women are drinking more than ever. Three out of three girlgymjunkies agree.

We also agree that we would probably lose the weight we want to lose in record time if we didn't actually NEED those drinks. ROUTINE: I start at 5:00 a.m. and work out for at least two hours in a race against time (surely I'm not as old as I look), work all day M-F (doing all that I can to prove my worth and stay ahead of the curve - no stress there!), without a banana break like Evil Lifeguard seems to need every 1.25 hours or so, walk back out to my car, strip off the bra, take off the heels, race home just LOVIN' traffic and rush hour asshole drivers, stopping of course to run errands but keeping the economy running so shopping is a good thing, regrouping for the next day (clean out gym gear, e.g., hang up wet towels and bathing suit, air out ditty bag, recharge shuffle, replace emergency socks with new ones), then lay out very professional clothing for work trying not to forget the socks again, reset alarms, wipe lip gloss off the rim of water bottle and refill, get fresh gear together for whatever workout is planned for the morning, and then pour myself a goblet of white wine and STOP MOVING for almost 5 whole minutes, albeit not sitting down (yet). Then pour my second goblet, trying to forget the world outside and just relax a bit before setting up the coffee, making a highly nutritious breakfast and lunch to pack along for tomorrow, adding chocolate just in case someone pisses me off and I NEED a treat, cooking dinner, setting a table, finishing the wine, vowing not to drink this much again tomorrow because I am NOT going to lose weight this way, finally sitting down and barely eating because I'm exhausted from a long day and wine, and passing out on the couch.

Repeat until Friday then "sleep in" on Saturday because the Y doesn't open until 7:00, then push a three hour workout because I have no life. Eat a huge breakfast because I am starved. Nap. Drink. Eat dinner. Blog. Sleep, hopefully without waking up six times because of the hot flashes and excess use of alcohol.

T.B.B. is back trying to get her stupid shoulder working again and I think she is a TROOPER. Okay so she thinks she needs to lose a few pounds but GAWD if I looked like her I'd be happier than a pig in shit. I haven't lost an ounce, though like most gals, I would like to lose at least a few pounds before "bikini season". I tell the men when they complain about needing to go on a diet to remember bikini season; I think they think I'm weird.

At least I don't think I'm clinically depressed, and I think I'm keeping life's usual anxieties under some sort of control, although I still have no patience for lousy drivers. OK Cookie: pass the rum.

Monday. Repeat.