Fat Mommy

Well, it finally happened. My four-year-old daughter called me out on my size.

In the past, both kids have pulled up my shirt to tickle me, or pushed on my flab. But there has never been any comment. Just a lot of laughter. It's allowed me to continue thinking I still had time to get it right before they noticed.

Saturday we were in a Noodles restroom and as she was sitting on the toilet seat, she said "Fat Mommy." My heart sank. She giggled and then said, "Fat Daddy" (he's not). "Fat Ella". "Fat Paper Towel". She laughed uproariously. Did she see the look on my face when she said "Fat Mommy?" Was trying to cover her tracks? Are four-year-olds capable of that level of recognition and empathy?

Every day I start out with the best of intentions. Today I was looking forward to working out--hard. My "broken" toe is on the mend and I was going to head outside in the lovely 50 degree weather we're having. Instead, my son duped me into letting his stay home claiming he was sick (he clearly wasn't and spent much of the day bouncing off the walls while I tried to work).

Today I ate a reasonable breakfast (two Morningstar Farms breakfast patties), had a reasonable snack (mozzarella) and a reasonable lunch (a 4-point WW quesadilla). It was the three WW desserts I could have done without.

I haven't yet exercised. I haven't drank any water. I know I need to do these things.

I'm mindless eating. I keep thinking I'll start tomorrow. Today is tomorrow. I am logging everything. For one week, I commit to logging everything and blogging every day.

Of course I can do this.