I try...

I was supposed to start eating really healthy this weekend and work out more than usual to begin the process of shedding more weight than is humanly possible in order for me to fit into my bridesmaid dress in two weeks.

As I would walk around the 7-Eleven zero-ing in on the oreos I would do the math in my head, "Wellllllllll, if I eat these oreos then I can do spinning tomorrow instead of yoga to burn more calories and then I'll be fine."

Only the working out didn't actually....like....happen.

Saturday I fully intended on going to either a yoga or a spinning class but as I described in the last post it became a busy day that ended with me inhaling two massive, life-threateningly large chicken enchiladas. And washing them down with a glucose-intensive margarita of course. I couldn't order water. That would be embarassing.

"No worries," I thought. I'll just do an hour on the eliptical tomorrow. Right. I'm still okay.

I woke up late this morning. Went back to my same breakfast place as the day before. Sat in the same seat. Ate the same thing (minus the potatoes, plus the bacon because that was somehow better in my warped mind) then decided to check out Victoria Park so I could continue reading my Economist while sitting on a bench and relaxing in the shade.

Here's what I saw at the park:



















All of the domestic workers don't have their own homes and instead live with their employers during the week. Sunday is their day off. So they hang out at the park. Naturally.

Lesson learned there. Avoid the only large park in Hong Kong on Sundays. The......main day I'll always want to go. Reason #157 why I miss NYC. Although I'm reminded of a Central Park post from my time there that describes an equally painful park experience.

After walking around Victoria Park for about 15 minutes - getting stares from all the Phillippino girls that enflamed my condescending "white guilt" - I decided to go to the movies.

"Hey! You could've worked out then, Stacey," one might say.

True. BUT I really wanted to see "Love in the Time of Cholera" before I go home to Atlanta because I don't know if it'll be showing there and it'll certainly be gone by the time I get back to HK. This was the rationalle I was going with anyway.

Movie sucked. For a couple reasons but the most annoying was all of the hot sex forced upon my eyes which took me to the "When am IIIIII going to get fucked, huh?" place in my brain which is no fun. After the Toronto Joe conversation and getting the text from Matt the Brit.... I'm hurtin' people.

I met up with Brigitte after the movie at a HEALTHY restaurant and had grilled veggies and lentils. VERY HEALTHY AND YUMMY. Then Brigitte smartly suggested we bypass the escalator and instead walk up the stairs to our apartment so I could call that my workout for the day. The girl is a good friend. She had biked for 3 hours, had a long run and a yoga class in the past 48 hours.

After about 30 minutes at home my stomach was growling because aparently I've expanded it to the size of a watermelon so a plate of grilled veggies just doesn't cut it for dinner anymore. I have NOTHING to eat in my apartment so I went to the fruit stand guy downstairs to grab something to eat. Did I buy a banana? No. I tried, but they weren't ripe yet. So I bought a can of Pringles and a Diet Coke and ate the entire can while watching TV.

I seriously triiiiiiiied but you heard me. The bananas weren't ripe yet.

Didn't make it to Lamma Island today with Cameron either for the 1 1/2 hour hike to the fresh seafood restaurant. I was too busy watching a 72-year old version of Javier Bardem have sex on a big screen.