So this is my week.
On Sunday, I committed to an exercise program and a healthier diet. I spent three straight days following same.
On the evening of the third day, my diva developed a pre-adolescent meltdown of Mount Pinatuboian proportions. For those who don't remember Mount Pinatubo, it's a volcano in the Philippines that in 1991 exploded in what was to be the second biggest volcanic eruption of the entire 20th Century. The ash caused a global haze that gave even us east coast Americans glorious sunsets for months afterward.
Dealing with said volcanic meltdown led to one minor overindulgence in M&Ms Wednesday night (mine), followed by an even greater meltdown the next morning (hers), which meant no exercising for anyone. So I tried to exercise at night, which proved to be stupid. I pulled something.
Really, exercising does not appear to be my thing.
I took today off. My left shoulder hurts. My now sciatically challenged backside hurts. And I'm tired. Not that I'm going to let this stop me. Fitness is pain! (Right?) But I am disheartened.
So, to cheer ourselves up and put a stop to the pre-adolescent meltdowns that are interfering with the Healthy Happy Sleeping-all-night Family Plan, we adopted a dog. Because a little unconditional puppy love goes a long way toward addressing girlish insecurities. And while we did not adopt him solely to cheer up my diva, the sight of my grumpy, hurting girl laughing and smiling out loud (yes, that smile was so big, it was audible) did clinch the deal. It helped that the boys were smiling, too.
His name is Oswald. We met him today, on the first anniversary of the passing of our beloved Moose. He comes home on Sunday.