Which is SO not true.
I just woke up. on my BIRTHDAY. The 8th Day of the Third Month of the Year. 42 years ago today, back in the friggin' 60s, I was born. That is just so groovy I can't stand it.
Because we just broke the bank on Disney, we aren't doing "gifts" this year, at least not traditional ones that cost money. My gift last night (now come on… I'm not going there) was to kick Cole OUT of his bed, and have a quiet, single bed all to myself. No loud breathers anywhere to be found. Or heard.
And I woke up to a cascading set of Bazzill Basics cardstock, each with its own letter, spelling out "HAPPY BIRTHDAY" all the way down the stairs. They're making their second appearance this week. Aidan made them for Dan's birthday on Thursday, and set her alarm for 5:30 a.m. to get up and lay them out AND make him breakfast. How sweet is that? I had called her the night before just to tell her, "Don't forget to wish Daddy a happy day." She's such an overachiever.
I just demanded that Dan make me pancakes, and he has happily obliged. Love watching men cook. And besides, my points to weight ratio is SO not in any jeopardy. And do you want to know why?
Because as of today, I'm sitting at a whopping NET ZERO. Do you know what this means? It means that after all that healthy living, excercise and point counting, I've officially gained every bloody pound back.
My goal that I was going to tell you about that I've missed by a mile was that by my 42nd birthday, I was going to weigh 142 pounds. A nice, manageable, healthy weight. Today? 160. For those of you who are math challenged, that is not the same number.
Now, I will save the rededication to all things healthy for tomorrow. Or maybe Monday. Today, I will eat my pancakes, chase it down with some Do-si-dos, and start looking at the Taste of India take out menu. Afterall, I've got the WHOLE next year for self-loathing!
Afterall, today IS my birthday!