Yesterday I went to the celtic festival in Downtown and it was pretty fun. At first I didn't want to go, my mind being all "there will be a million people there all out to get you by judging you to death." But I stifled that internal voice and went anyway - after taking some wonderful calming drugs. With the drugs I was all "I like their knots so why not." Then I laughed for about five minutes because of my punny use of the word knot/not and because of those wonderful drugs. So anyway, we went and walked around and I purchased a nice pair of earrings that I won't be able to wear for like 6 months because I just got my ears repierced and I'm a rule follower. We were about to leave when I spotted the chocolate dipped cheesecake on a stick booth. I'm pretty sure a light shone down from heaven onto it while choirs of angels began to sing. I indulged and now I know that the celtic people are out to make me fat. I didn't enter the calories for it on my lose weight app. In fact, I haven't entered anything since our mini-vacation to Hometown. I also haven't ventured onto a scale since before that event. There was way too much eating without thinking while we were on our mini-vaca so I abandoned my fat tracking for wanton eating. Which is similar to wonton eating because both are delicious and not so good for your waistline. But I think my waistline may be shrinking because my pants are loose and falling down. I'm serious. I feel like a teenage boy who thinks they are cool but not really because I believe in belts as opposed to showing the world my undies. But I don't really believe that I am losing that much weight that my pants are loose and falling down. I am convinced that this is a malfunction of said pants. How pants go from fitting to magically malfunctioning is beyond me but mine are totally malfunctioning. All of my pants. How can I be expected to function like a normal person with malfunctioning pants. I would go shopping for new pants but that would just be because I love shopping and find that it gives meaning to my life rather than actually buying new fitting pants that will no longer fit once I eat another chocolate dipped cheesecake on a stick and one fourth of a half gallon of ice cream. It was called Skinny Minty and is supposed to be low calorie ice cream but I doubt that means you are supposed to eat it in bulk straight out of the carton. I have also been consuming large amounts of Combos as of late. That is not my fault either. It is the fault of Sam's Club. Actually, it is the fault of my dad for taking me to Sam's Club but that totally cannot be true because my daddy can do no wrong. He's my daddy. I am such a daddy's girl. Sometimes I think my mom gets upset that I call myself a daddy's girl but that's just the way it is. Maybe my daddy can take me to Sam's Club for some new pants. Ooooo and then we could get that yummy ice cream on the way out! Sounds like a plan :)
P.S. I am surprised they let me into the Sam's Club but I will save that for my next post.
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