Whoever said, "nothing tastes as good as thin feels..."

Has never eaten at the Blue Plate Diner in Portland.  This was one of my splurges during my "pre-diet countdown."  The husband and I headed there Friday afternoon for diner food and ice cream sodas ("floats" to people on the West Coast apparently).  I ordered the pulled pork sandwich and macaroni and cheese and Husband ordered sliders and mashed potatoes.  We ate half and then switched.  That's what we do.  Otherwise we risk me having food envy and staring at his meal and sighing the whole time until he offers me a bite or five.  I also had a strawberry soda with chocolate ice cream.  Yum.  Then it was on to the movies for about 1500 calories in popcorn.  

Today I have decided is laze about and eat whatever I want day.  I start school on Monday and my free time will be at a premium.  So I'm finishing up "My Life on the D List" and reading In Style magazine and lusting after things I can't fit into and/or afford.  I'm eating all the things that I will miss during the two weeks of phase one on South Beach.  I ate cereal for breakfast.  Not just any cereal.  The "Malt-O-Meal" version of Sugar Smacks (I think now officially known as Honey Smacks because "Sugar" is now a bad word).  I had two pieces of fried chicken for an early lunch that I splurged on at the Fred Meyer (I know.  I splurge big).  I'm gearing up for a little chip and Italian dressing snack in a little while.  And for dinner, will be pizza.  But not before I hit the gym.  You know, a girl has gotta watch her figure.

Really, the laze about and eat anything I want day could not have come on a better day.  It's um...that time of the month (I really can't think of an appropriate "menstruation" metaphor for the Internet) and my ovaries were pissed right off at me this morning.  We're talking doubled over in pain cursing all of my internal organs.  Husband says it's because they are bored and so they make sure my period is extra dramatic so they have something to do.  Bastards.  Yes, my ovaries are boys.  Aren't yours?

Schmice Cream