I'm not sure why, but this year's Thanksgiving feast seemed even more carby than usual. Maybe it was the addition of a pan full of homemade mac 'n cheese to our usual menu that the younger daughter and I whipped up. It was a combination of the Pioneer Woman and Patti LaBelle's recipe, and it was dee-licious. However, I probably ate my weight in our granny's cornbread dressing that my mother whipped up for us. Whatever the case, I walked around with a carb bloated belly for several days thanks to leftovers.
Last month I bought a fancy pants treadmill to join my elliptical in the exercise room. However, I'm still waiting for that sucker to be delivered. Instead of opting for the upgrade console they had in stock, I went with the basic console that had to be shipped from the factory. For sure, our family needs those handlebar thingies on the sides and an extra wide belt on the model I ordered, but not some froufrou color console that winds me down a virtual path like I'm walking. I can pound the pavement in our 'hood if I want the live and in person experience. Alas, I'm still a rat-on-the-elliptical, cranking out 40 miles per week until I can add walking to mix up my exercise routine. Give the old lady gimp hip a break. Now that I've finally shed the 'rona weight, it's time to take a swing at the perimenopausal love handles before we bring on the Christmas goodies later this month.
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