Coming home from vacation is always hard because for a week, I had somebody else to cook, clean and entertain my family without me having to lift a damned finger. I had unlimited cokes, which I took full advantage of because I don’t usually drink cokes at home. I had pizza any damn time I wanted it and some damn good Indian food as well. There were also unlimited (well, between 11 am and 11 pm anyway) Cubano and buffalo chicken sandwiches which were so delicious I at one point contemplated divorcing my husband (sorry, babe!) to marry one or both of them, thus making myself a sandwich bigamist. And the truffle fries..OH DEAR LORD THE TRUFFLE FRIES. And the pumpkin chorizo soup. AND THE CHOCOLATE HAZELNUT MOUSSE.
Going on vacation is really, REALLY bad for my waistline y’all. Like..horribly bad. I did get up on two out of the three sea days to do about a dozen laps of the jogging track. By the third sea day, which came at the end of a week with three port days back to back to back, I had no fucks left to give and just gave up. I tried to take the stairs whenever I could, but stairs wear me the heck out and despite the fact that I thought I was more in shape than I had been a year ago when I took my last cruise, I found myself wheezing and unable to catch my breath after only two flights of stairs. Even though I’ve lost weight and I’m more in shape than I was this time last year, I’m still not in great shape apparently and still in worse shape than I thought. Boo.
I weighed myself when I came back and the number hurt my eyes. I was set back a LOT farther than I assumed I would be, considering I did TRY to only drink Diet Coke (which I failed about half the time), limit my food consumption (also a fail about half the time), walked around in two separate ports for over an hour (Belize and Cozumel) and spent one day doing a very strenuous zipline and jungle hike thing (Roatan, Honduras. 10/10 would do again absolutely, btw). I thought I was only going to gain about 5 lbs..if that. Nope. My scale confirmed I gained almost 10 lbs.
S’alright…Imma pick my fat butt up off the floor and keep on moving. I’ve got goal pants to fit into dadgummit.