Come to think of it, you might want to strap yourself in. If you don’t have straps, get your interns to hold you down.
And if you don’t have interns, well, you clearly haven’t been taking my advice.
Anywho, are you ready for the big news?
I had ice cream today!
I know. Right? I couldn’t believe it, either.
Now, a couple of months ago, my writing that I’d eaten ice cream would not have been groundbreaking news. Maybe a post about my going a day without some sort of dessert would have knocked your socks off.
Don’t worry. It’s okay to agree with that statement.
I know I was out of control with the sweets. Like a Fat Boy Godzilla eating his way through downtown Candyland.
But I’ve been a different man over the past nine weeks.
I’ve changed so much that I actually had to go out this weekend and buy Thinner Guy clothes. That’s right, I was rocking pants one size smaller today.
In hindsight, perhaps I should’ve raided the Fat Boy wardrobe today since the Ice Cream Social was on the schedule at work.
And there was ice cream. In my mouth.
After nine plus weeks of literally working my ass off, I allowed myself a cheat day. After all, it was an official work function, and I didn’t want to be forever labeled an Ice Cream Anti-Socialist.
I have enough problem with my social skills as it is. No need to alienate ice cream, too.
I can proudly say, however, that I prepared my treat like a man looking to drop another fifty pounds, rather than that rampaging lunatic in the enormous pants who would eat anything put in his path.
My sundae looked more like a Monday with whipped cream, but it really was delicious and more than enough to appease my long ignored sweet tooth.
And it’s not like I just sat there and allowed the ice cream to multiply inside me, recruit new fat cells to it cause, and then storm my stomach to push out all the fat burning cells.
After I had my modest helping of yum, I went for a twenty-five minute walk. According to my FitBit, on my rest day from running, I still have over 15,000 steps.
Yes, Modern Philosophers, I do kick ass. Thank you for noticing.
I’m so happy I made the investment because my fitness is a top priority right now, and this device really is the cat’s pajamas.
That’s right, I’m going odd school with the wordplay. Meow!
The Blaze does a much better job of tracking my activity, I can link it to Map My Run to get a better overview of my runs, it tracks my sleep (it even gets me a glass of warm milk when I have a nightmare), prepares healthy meals for me, and asks attractive women for their phone numbers because I’m still a little gun shy in that area.
And because I am trying to talk to women without my FitBit’s assistance, I did lend my old tracker to a very attractive young lady who I’m always eager to impress.
So I’m sure you’re dying to know if the ice cream was worth it.
I ate it slowly, savored its sweet, chilly goodness, and then wept openly and loudly after the last spoonful was gone.
It was good, but not bust out the Fat Boy pants again good, if you catch my drift.
I do understand, however, that it is important to reward myself every once in a while. All this hard work and no play makes Austin a skinny, but dull boy with occasional hunger pains.
So I’m glad I had that damn ice cream.
I was beginning to forget how decadence tasted, and now I know I can survive without it.
You don’t have to run like I do, but it would be cool if you followed me…