I’ve been entertaining a lot lately.
Each morning I seem to be putting at least two liquor bottles into the recycle bin. And its only Wednessday.
Last night some of the HR girls came over. It was a lot of fun, sitting around bitching about our minion status, dreaming of the day when we will take over the company and Lord over other minions.
Us HR girls, we have goals.
So again I find myself here, at work, tired, overwhelmed by the amount of paper on my desk, the ridiculous amount of emails marked urgent and un-read, procrastinating and mourning over the fact that my most favorite pair of fall pants are needling into my slowly expanding waist line.
I was exited this morning too, when I remember them, sitting in the back of my closet, patiently awaiting September. I slowly slid them on, relishing the soft silk feel, marveling at the simplicity of the black on black stripping, till I tried to pull them up past my posterior and they would not budge.
Girls, what is it with our favorite pants that we cannot let go, and instead resort to jumping around like a rabbit, trying to wiggle into a pair of pants you know your going to regret wearing at lunch time?
On the flip side, I am now eagerly awaiting going home and jumping on the treadmill.
Favorite pants + large bum=Motivation