Happy post-Thanksgiving Monday, everyone.
Please tell me I'm not the only one who feels like this.
("A Voluptuary Under the Horrors of Digestion", James Gillray, 1792)
We spent the holiday in town with friends...
...and had an evening filled with revelry, laughter and succumbing to all and sundry temptations. I wish I could say I showed some restraint when it came to the chestnut stuffing and the pecan pie, but I think I came close to rivaling Fanny Hill in the lack-of-resolve department.
I was soon to discover that Mistress Fate wields a heavy hand.
Getting dressed Sunday morning, everything I put on appeared to have undergone massive shrinkage.
Part of me clung to the slim hope that my cleaning lady had accidentally washed my entire wardrobe on "extra hot." The other part of me knew all too well the reason why .
Long story short, today is the dawn of a new era.
Goodbye, corn pudding. Hello broiled grapefruit, poached chicken and melba toast.
Bonjour, increased heart rate.
It may not be all fun and games.
But come December, there will be so much to look forward to.