Recipe for Disaster

To say that I fell off the wagon last night is an understatement. I did a swan dive off of the wagon, set fire to the wheels and punched the donkey that was pulling it square between the eyes.

But more about that in a moment…

Know this: there will be setbacks.  Plan for them. Expect them. Have them, and then, recover from them.

My first week in the gym, I shot myself backwards off the treadmill in classic John Ritter fashion. It was quite elaborate – very flail-y. I screamed. I hit the guy on the treadmill beside me before landing in a fat, sweaty, contorted heap.

But I came back.

Since then, I have been in the gym four times a week doing one thing or another. Sometimes I lift weights; sometimes I do yoga. For cardio, I stick to the elliptical machine because it has a little plastic pockets that you slide your feet into, so I’m less likely to go flying again. The point is, I am there, working. And I have steadily lost inches, gained strength and burned calories in a way that no diet alone could possibly achieve.  

Speaking of diet, let’s get back to that smoldering wagon. Here’s the deal, I ate a burrito. I know. No one is sorrier than I am about the burrito eating. But if this public accountability thing is gonna work, I occasionally have to spill my guts and today, those guts contain burrito.

Last night, through no fault of my own, I drank 600 calories worth of Vodka and Crystal Light, drove through Taco Bueno on the way home and ordered a combination burrito with onions and queso. I know this because when I woke up, the receipt was in bed next to me, mocking me like a one-night stand now repulsive in the dawn light. Also, I had cheese on my face. Cheese. On my face. Wagon. On fire. Donkey. Punched.

I do not remember eating the burrito, nor its onion bits, nor the tub of liquid cheese that I apparently thought would round out this particular culinary experience. But I did. I ate the burrito. So now I must confess this sin in front of the same forum from which I have accepted so many accolades. I must hope that you will forgive me and continue to follow my story and maybe, someday, support me again. Most importantly, I have to refuse to allow this singular event – however hideous – to undo all the work I have done so far.

So I came back.

I had orange juice and a Special K bar for breakfast, and for lunch, I had salmon, avocado, cabbage, bean sprouts and carrots wrapped in rice paper from Mr. Chopsticks.

And I’m going to the gym this evening. I’ll stay away from the treadmill of death, but I’ll be there, working. My favorite class instructor at the gym always tells us “It’s not about the start, it’s about the finish; FINISH STRONG.” That really resonates with me for some reason, especially today, and it’s really the best advice I can offer anyone else. Well, that, and this little insider tip: cheese is not liquid at room temperature.