My Fair Lazy - Jen Lancaster [50]
has located source of carpet stink. Culprit not identified, but dogs pretty much cleared; not capable of this kind of evil. Cats on notice.
initiating vacuuming and deodorizing sequence.
has informed cats of their rights and advised them not to leave town.
is queasy from Arm & Hammer fumes and currently being mocked by both cats and carpeting. On to the soap-and-water-scrub portion of our show.
is AAARRRGGHH! CARPET STINK IS JUST LIKE GREMLINS! NEVER ADD WATER! RUN! SAVE YOURSELVES!
has gone to DEFCON ONE—carting my lazy ass down all those stairs to get the Spotbot.
overheard cats by water dish whispering, “Steam cleaner, pfft. She’s going to need NASA to get that stink out.”
gives up. Cats-1. Jen-0.
can’t believe that even with the aroma of pies baking and briskets . . . brisketing that The Stink Abides. Maybe something did die in the wall?
I still haven’t determined the source of the stink. But aren’t you really anxious to come over now?
CHAPTER NINE
The Flavor of FAIL
“Gross.”
“Double gross.”
“Yikes.”
“Sausage factory.”
“Boob-tacular.”
I’m in the master bedroom in front of my full-length mirror with a pile of clothes heaped up on the bed behind me. I’m headed out on book tour again next month and I’m having yet another wardrobe dilemma. I got all these well-fitted dresses to wear on tour last year and now . . . they don’t fit so well.
The truth is I kind of slacked off on my intensive exercise regime. I haven’t lapsed back into my old habits—at least not completely—but I’ve definitely back-burnered my previous level of effort. For example, I haven’t trained with Barbie since we moved. I’m only about three miles west of where I’d been living when I was so devoted, but now the trip to the gym takes an extra twenty minutes because of traffic, both ways. I mean, I meant to go see her, and we certainly chatted via e-mail, but I had a deadline and then I had to move and it took almost two months to completely settle into the new place and then it was the holidays and then the January editions of all my favorite shows came back on and . . . you know. Life got in the way.100
Yes, I’ve since realized the value of consistency. I did a solid run on the treadmill earlier today, but thirty minutes of a moderate jog isn’t enough to make up for six months of lethargy, no matter how well intentioned it may have been. According to the scale, I haven’t gained more than a few pounds, but I’m pretty sure that’s because I’ve lost muscle mass. Plus, I don’t feel my strongs like I used to.
I’m pissed off that I didn’t police myself better, although I can still get back on track. I could be all “Oh, no! I’m fat again!” but I already wrote that book and through it I figured out how to set myself right. I learned from the effort, which is actually why I have the tiniest of problems with folks like Bret Michaels and Miss New York and Flavor Flav. When I see them doing the same damn show over and over again—as much as I love ’em, can’t miss ’em, and plan my week around ’em—I have to wonder if any of them has even a shred of self-awareness. Do they not see their own patterns of relationship-destroying behavior?
Or are the checks just so big they don’t care?
Or is everything so far removed from reality that it’s nothing but show business?
As for me, I took the first step today—thirty minutes of them, in fact. And I’m definitely more energized for having run. I forgot how much I liked the feeling of my heart pounding (for a reason other than social anxiety) and the V of my T-shirt dampening (not in terror sweat). Plus, I finally have a great bathtub—seems like I’d want to go out and make my muscles ache so I’d get to really enjoy a soothing, effervescent soak.
The problem is I have less than a month before I leave, and given my schedule, there’s no way I’ll be able to work off what I’ve put on between now and then. So until I have the time to fully embrace fitness and clean living, I need to employ a little subterfuge. Maybe if I distract everyone by looking fantastic