Ashamed of Myself

So I went to a doctor’s appointment this past Wednesday, and among other things, I was VERY unhappy with the numbers their scales threw up at me.  I didn’t get out of the parking lot before I had texted the hubby and the child to let them know that I was declaring diet jihad. We were all going to start eating right. AND we were going to start getting some exercise. AND I wasn’t going to consume empty calories of wine in the evenings…at least not weeknight evenings.

Wednesday evening and Thursday breakfast and lunch went okay.  I had accessed my free calorie counter app (MyFitnessPal…it’s neat and very helpful) I had recorded my embarrassing weight and had dutifully logged in every bite I had eaten.  The plan for dinner Thursday night was tacos…but I was planning on forgoing the taco shell and just having a salad with minimal (and very lean 96/4) meat, Weight Watcher’s lowfat cheese, salsa but lots of lettuce and veggies.  I got home, prepared the meat and waited for the kid to get home from her cheerleading practice. And waited. And waited.  Finally I texted her, “Where are you? I’m starving!” “Be right there. Had to pick something up.” Two minutes later, she walks in the door carrying this:

Yeah. I whole box of assorted donuts from the JUST OPENED Dunkin Donuts in our town.  We had been seeing the progression of the construction, but did not know they had opened…and they were selling them as fast as they could make them which meant that they were extremely, mouthwateringly fresh. “Well this isn’t good for the diet,” I said. “We’ll walk it off later,” replied my enabling child.  After dinner and a donut, she begs to go to the tanning bed. (I know, I know…we only go about once a week though, and she IS in a cheerleading outfit and honestly, you pick your battles.) So we head off to the tanning bed.  Afterward, we decide to make a run to Target for various sundries…I’ve got my sister’s birthday coming up and a friend’s that I’m meeting up with on Saturday. I buy cards and decide to get a bottle of wine for the friend.  Target stocks a decent variety of wines…particularly with cute labels and I notice a new brand called “Smarty Pants.” Very cute!  I buy a white and a red. Then we head back to the house.

We unload our Target haul, and I put the wine in the (empty) wine rack in the kitchen.  Jeff is coming in the door at about the same time we are…and for whatever reason, this spins the dogs up and they start zooming around the house like a bunch of heathens.  We go upstairs to take our shoes off and put on our comfy clothes and they come barreling upstairs with us.  The cha-weenie (Libby) is chasing the Golden Retriever (Simba) up onto our bed where they do a little wrasslin’ before careening down the hallway and into Jeff’s gameroom, where the kiddo has some neatly stacked piles of freshly laundered clothes.  Yay! Is obstacle course! Jeff turns to me and says, “You’re gonna have to take them out back and let them run off some of this energy.”  Because when they get excited like this, usually you just have to take them out to the backyard where they can chase each other around for a few laps and cause minimal damage.  I holler, “Let’s go guys!” and head downstairs, carefully staying to the inside of the stairwell as they come galloping past me, excited because they LOVE this game.  They hit the tile in the foyer and go skidding around the corner into the kitchen. I’m not completely down the stairs when I hear the crash…

Somehow, they had hit the wine rack in such a way that they knocked the bottle of red (of course it was the red) out…the bottle had the neck broken off, there was a good ¼ of a bottle of wine seeping on the tile and headed for an HVAC vent, but the bottle was right side up otherwise.  You know how in the movies someone will hold the neck and smash the bottle so that they can use the jagged glass to shank someone?  It was like that, except in reverse. The kiddo grabbed the bottle and set it in the sink, I lunged for Simba so that he wouldn’t get cut or anything, Libby quickly retreated to the sofa in the living room with her tail between her legs…happy-funtime was over.

After mopping up the wine, locating the broken off wine bottle neck under the hutch and moving the remaining unbroken bottle of wine to a safer location, the kiddo went over and looked at the bottle in the sink. “Hey mom, there’s most of the wine still in the bottle. What are you going to do with it?” “Well, it probably has glass in it, I guess I’ll just pour it out.” “Really, you’re going to waste this whole thing?”  So then, I did something that I really, really feel I should be embarrassed about:

There was nothing really to do after that but pour myself a couple (or three and a half) glasses of wine (out of a measuring cup). Sigh.  Needless to say, we did not go for our walk.  To sum the evening up, instead of eating a light, healthy salad followed by a brisk, calorie-burning walk, I ate donuts, went to the tanning bed and drank almost an entire bottle of wine.  Biggest diet fail ever.

“I’m sorry I am helping destroy your health, Momma. I’m ashamed too.”