Flab Fab

Yesterday I took off my jeans and it looked like I still had them on. Why, you ask? Because the seams had imbedded themselves into my skin. Paint my legs blue and you wouldn’t be able to tell any difference. No, I’m not overweight or pudgy or thick. I’m soft like a doughy bagel, something I’m not used to in my skin. Having a baby encourages this pliable exterior but exercise cures it. Remember a couple of weeks ago when I posted I was committing to a workout routine? Well, I also forgot to tell you it was opposite day.

The main building where I work down the street from and call the Mother Ship is full of seasonal hires and it is the foxiest bunch of (mostly) gals I have ever seen. Our staff meetings are distracting. Even I’m checking them out. It’s depressing, too. I’m really starting to feel 37 and if I don’t get my ass in gear I’m going to end up like Eddy on Absolutely Fabulous before I know it (see chick on the right…the one on my left would be Holly, my best friend and designer of my mansion). “Shampoozle, sweetie dahling?”