It's a good thing my television intake is so small. If it were any bigger, so would be my "chocolate muscle" - which for the record should probably be renamed my "sugar muscle" or my "lack-of-self-control muscle." Bob would be so disappointed if he could see my milkshake through the TV screen. But, traditions are important, right? And my tradition is to eat something sweet and tasty while I sit lazily on the couch. Watching people work their butts off (literally) on The Biggest Loser just wouldn't seem right if I didn't have a cookie (ha, ha, like anyone eats just one!), a hot gooey brownie (again, who eats just one?), or a peanut-butter oreo milkshake. Don't judge!
But, last night one of the voices in my head convinced me to stray from my ways. And, despite my resistance, I broke the tradition. I watched The Biggest Loser from my
dread-mill... and yes, it was powered on.
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| Seriously, why choose this.... |
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| when you can choose this? |
And, amazingly enough - I didn't die. Neither did my chocolate muscle, mind you, but lets not go getting all crazy or anything!
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