One of Them

Last Saturday night I went out with a bunch of the girls I work out with at my fitness studio. We started out at a bowling alley and were there for about an hour and then we got kicked out. Yep. I'm 37 years old and got kicked out of a bowling alley like some 17 year old punk. One of the girls had called the bowling alley and asked if alcohol was allowed there and since there was a bar, she was told yes. So she made a batch of sangria and brought it in. However, although alcohol from the bar is allowed, outside food and beverage is not, so cops were called, the sangria was confiscated and we were tossed out on the street like common thugs.

I have to admit...it was great.

So, what were a group of women supposed to do at 10:30 on a Saturday night? We ended up at Chili's with giant margaritas and baskets of chips and salsa and queso. (Yeah, I know. Eeeeek. The calories. Whatever.)

So as I'm sitting there laughing my head off, drinking a margarita, and really enjoying these awesome women...these fit, athletic women I've been working out with for over 6 months...I realized something...

I'm one of them.

They didn't know me when I was morbidly obese. I mean, I obviously still have some weight to lose and I'm working on it, but the thing I have in common with these women is fitness.

We text each other before class to make sure we'll be there.

We save each other spots in the front of the class.

We share hair ties and bottles of water and protein bars.

Ain't that some shit? I've been working out often enough that my gym friends are becoming real friends.

My life is different.

Steakless

My husband said he wasn't happy that I had to gross him out instead of other people so I'm going to share this with you so he's not alone.
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DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU DON'T WANT TO READ SOMETHING REALLY YUCKY.
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Ok so here goes...

I've eaten steak twice this week without issue and got cocky and probably ate too much (4 oz. maybe, and some corn on the cob).

I PB'ed. Bad. The worst one in a loooooong time.

I PB'ed so hard that a chunk of steak came out my nose. I'm not kidding. I blew my nose and there was a piece of steak. I almost barfed again because that was just so gross.

After over an hour of PB, recover, think that it's over, sip a tiny bit of water to get the taste out of my mouth, and then run to the bathroom to PB again, I brought out the big guns and gulped a small cup of sparkling lemon lime flavored bubbly water to get things moving. It had the desired "roto rooter" effect, I burped, and the offensive nasty bits went down.

Thank goodness.

It's going to be awhile before I eat red meat again.

On a good note...I needed a new pair of shorts that actually fit since it's a gazillion degrees out and we're spending the day outside at a mango festival tomorrow. I bought this outfit at Old Navy. Size 14 shorts, and I don't hate the way my legs look in them, and a size MEDIUM shirt. (Oh, and a new haircut that I really love.)