Elated Client, Inflated Mama

Net results of my trip: I gained a pound and a half and a lucrative project.

I had been doing well, down 5.5 lbs. Yahoo. Do you think it could have been the paté? The triple-cream brie? The champagne? Who knew that some of the richest French foods on earth would do such damage? Okay, yeah…I blew it. And I don’t regret it. It was fun and indulgent. I can’t say that I was surprised. I mean, if you are going to do this whole weight-loss lifestyle thing, you gotta face facts. Big binge=Bigger butterball belly! And I have mine to prove it. Back on the wagon, little Miss Roly-poly.

Oddly, the richest indulgence was calorie-free, the solitary plane flight to and from Oakland. I think that if I ever find myself on the verge of a nervous breakdown, I am booking a flight. I will simply hop on and round-trip to anywhere. Take-off, land, and take-off again. (Like that wouldn’t get me arrested as a wanna-be terrorist.) It was in heaven. I did the crossword puzzle, I ordered a wine and actual had a chance to drink it! Normally, I have to toss it. I should just pay the flight attendant three bucks to show me a glass since that is typically what it amounts to, but not this time. I savored every drop. I closed my eyes and relaxed. No car seats, no children, no phone calls, no interruptions, no place to be, just buckled up bliss. Perhaps I was a pilot in another lifetime.

Aside from the peaceful plane ride, it was a rather stressful 24-hour trip. The printing press that I needed for my job broke down—cracked under the pressure, I guess. This would qualify as a major problem, since I flew all the way there for a bloody press check. And the client was waiting to go with me. I would have been furious, but you can’t blame humans for machinery that doesn’t want to cooperate. It wasn’t their fault and they did everything in their power to correct it. I did finally see something on press minutes before my return flight. Thank god my client has a good sense of humor. And recently came off of a seriously unfulfilling visit with another agency, so she wasn’t feeling too hot. I made her laugh by relying the detailed of my failed book-club-membership attempt and she thanked me for it. Maybe it was a lucky break after all. Who doesn’t need a laugh, especially in the face of a seeming disaster. Oh, and my return flight was cancelled. Which was more confusing than anything. I kept trying to check myself in at the auto-kiosk. And my name popped up, I clicked “Yes” and it kept telling me that it couldn’t help me. I finally asked a woman in uniform “What the heck is going on?” She gave me that look, like I am a complete and utter idiot and people with my lack of technical savvy and obvious mental deficit should NOT insist on bothering with self-service systems. But after seeing that this particular half-wit was not leaving without an explanation, she reluctantly checked the database and discovered the flight was cancelled. I was partly expecting an apology for her nasty attitude, but when it wasn’t forthcoming, I left. After all, I had a flight to not catch.

Well, here is the latest: I am hauling my paté-munching ass off to the YMCA today. It is time to join. Not just because I can actually see the cheese I ate on the back of my thighs and my love handles are flourishing after a chocolate-almond fertilization, but because they have arthritis swim classes. How cool is that? Clearly, a sign from above that my elephantine presence is required immediately, I am looking forward to splashing with the blue-hairs. I already know I will prefer them to Madame X.