Little Debbie is the Devil in Pig Tails

I have been trying so hard to lose the extra pounds I let creep on after cancelling my gym membership. That, by the way, was a mistake. I had convinced myself this summer that my youngest would have difficulty behaving in the gym's crowded childcare, and our family would spend so much time swimming that I wouldn't need to go to the gym to stay in shape anyway. The faulty logic there is that moms don't get to swim! We get to catch little people jumping off the side of the pool, carry them through the deep water, dodge noodles, and occasionally jump in fully clothed to perform a rescue, but rarely swim laps! If you don't believe me, try it with three kids in the pool and see how far you get before either they pounce on you or you have to stop and help/break up a "situation."
When school began again, I had intended to rejoin the gym, but preschool takes such a chunk out of the bank account each month that I decided to save the money and put our Bow Flex and treadmill to good use. As it turns out, once a week (or um, once a month) doesn't actually count as putting them to good use. It took seeing the scales tell me an ugly number and feeling the ill-fitting bulges in my favorite jeans to propel me to really buckle down and fix this problem.
Now I am starting to see results, but they've come at a price. I have had to give up all the yummy foods that got me to this point in the first place, and I am missing them a lot! I would gladly embrace the notion that a little indulgence is ok, but it hasn't worked for me for one simple reason: when I give myself too much freedom, it consumes me. Oh, and because Little Debbie is pure evil in disguise. She packages those Swiss Cake Rolls in pairs so that I can convince myself eating one of them won't hurt me. But soon I've eaten both of them, and once I've plowed through the whole box, I must face up to the fact that I was duped by the cuteness on the box. How can a snack cake be so bad when a sweet little girl in gingham and braids is selling it? That's how I ended up in my fat jeans.
Maybe that's why God gave such strict guidelines to the Israelites. They had already demonstrated in the desert that they would turn away from Him at the drop of a golden calf, so it stands to reason that God was protecting them from themselves when he imposed a harsh set of rules on them. When they wavered from His rules and gave themselves too many freedoms, they were consumed by evil. Hopefully, I can continue eating strictly healthy foods and continue working out and avoid being consumed by my own over-indulgence. Wish me luck!

Anyone know an aquatic therapist?

Remember the fish I poured into the disposal? I mentioned him in my rant about why I am not a pet person. I do well to take care of the three kids, and the animals are just not my thing at all. Thankful for the big scary dog though-especially when I'm home alone. Anyway, back to the fish. He hasn't quite been himself lately, and even though his brain is about the size of a rice crispy, he seems to have post traumatic stress disorder. When I go near his bowl, he flips out. Sometimes he swims sideways erratically, and other times I'd swear he trembles. I understand that I caused the whole situation, but that was over a month ago! He needs to get over it! I can't even believe I'm thinking this, but perhaps he needs a lady fish friend to take his mind off his near-death experience. What am I saying?! If I poured one down the drain, what is the likelihood that I could keep two fish in the bowl when I change the water? And baby fish? I'm pretty sure any offspring would become casualties immediately. Maybe one fish with PTSD is fine for now. Once he graduates to the toilet, we can go back to being a one and a half pet family (the turtle hibernates half the year, and it's anybody's guess whether he'll emerge each spring, so he only halfway counts) where nothing living fits in a drain.