Diets suck

For those of you who don't know me, you won't know that last year was a whirlwind.  In February, my boyfriend completely disappeared, refusing to take my call with no explanation.  I threw myself into the gym to get my butt off the couch and dropped from a size 16 to an almost 8. Then in September, I met the man I'm dating now. 

The good part - I'm happier than I have been in years
The bad part - All those pounds I lost...They came back with friends.

So, I hit the gym again, this time to get rid of my 'happy pounds'.  A month of yogurt and spinach salads resulted in a loss of 6 lbs of fat and a gain of 5 lbs of muscle.  I have to ask myself, what was the point???

Everyone says I should be happy because muscle burns fat - but here is the deal, I do NOT want more muscle.  If I keep replacing my fat with muscle I'm going to look like the shortest Amazon in history.  I mean, how much muscle does a woman need?  I can leg press about 350 lbs with a bad knee.  Despite what everyone says, the only good thing about being this strong is that I don't have to pay others to carry my luggage!

What I want are sexy legs instead of tree trunks.  What I want is for a man to be able to pick me up and carry me to bed without pulling his back.  Maybe even a pair of knee high boots...Instead I get more muscle, which means constant hours at the gym to keep toned. 

More muscle means none of what I want above will come true.  I'd take love handles any day over more muscle.  At least love handles I can get rid of with a decent diet and some hours on the treadmill.  So I'm going to keep plugging away, concentrating on losing my happy pounds while avoiding more muscle at all costs.  If anyone has any pointers, please let me know.

On a happy note, vacation is only two days away.  I can't wait to run away where technology can't find me.  No cell phone.  No work.  Just fresh air...or according to the weather report, rain over most of my camping trip.  Still, escape will be worth it, mold and all. 

When I get back, it's time for me to start submitting "The Jerk List" and chain myself to the treadmill so I can fit into my red dress for RWA nationals.  Red is just so much more charismatic than black.