Thank God I didn't wear my white t-shirt

Diet is going pretty well. I only want to kill everyone, ever about once or twice a day right now. Although I totes cheated this past Saturday at Devon's birthday dinner at Star of India. It was magnificent. Then we went and sang (a generous word for what happened) karaoke at this place.

wtf?

Having the elliptical smack dab in the middle of my bedroom does, I have to admit, get rid of most any excuse not to exercise. I'm trying to take it one day at a time as I'm bothered by the idea of  living a healthy, balanced lifestyle. Not that there's anything wrong with it. But it bores me. It brings out a compulsive need to do something bad just because. Like drink an entire bottle of wine or have what I've deemed 'sober blackouts' where I do things like tell my friend's parents about dancing on a platform in Vegas even though I'm stone cold sober and cannot actually remember doing it or what my motivation could have possibly been in telling them. Sorry, Liz!

I've decided to re-watch Sex and the City while working out on it, in case I missed any important life lessons when I was 20 years old and couldn't relate to most of it. Although mostly now it just makes me seethe because there's no way you can write a weekly column and live in a brownstone in that part of NYC and afford Dior. It also makes me suspect I was supposed to be having a lot wilder of a time in my 20's and I'm pretty sure I can't catch up before December. My idea of being a fun, single gal revolves more around the luxury of having no one bother me rather than having loads of party and man-filled nights. Apparently I say incredibly inappropriate things on a regular basis without the excuse of booze. It's just me. And that's a terrifying thought. I'm half afraid being super healthy and mature in my food and exercise decisions will cause me to spiral out even more in other areas. Something's gotta give. Until then, keep me away from your parents/grandparents/anyone.

Meh. Time for my healthy snack.