And the project begins...

I was riding the train home last night when I realized something—something, dare I say, tragic. I have a birthday coming up in May. Birthdays are usually tough enough but this one is not your run of the mill, ordinary birthday. It's my—wait for it—30th. How did I get so old and so quickly? Actually I shouldn't be asking "how," I should be asking "why"? Thirty. It gives me the shivers, but what can I do. Well, I'm going to tell you. I have 76 days until the big one hits (yes, I counted). In that time, I am going to become the fittest I've ever been. As god is my witness, I will age gracefully. If I have to binge, purge, or invest in surgery, I will look amazing come May 12th.

DON’T let them eat cake!

I just ate a piece of some old, dry cake left in the kitchen at work. Why? Because it was there. I have a problem.

Houston, I think we have a problem

I was out of town for a week and upon my return, something very disturbing happened. I'm not talking about the 4 am wake-up call or the four-hour delay—two of which was spent sitting on the airplane—something bigger. My pup Grace has put on some weight. I'm probably talking 10 pounds. In a week. Now, I know I have some weird weight issues with a touch of distorted body image but I'm concerned. I just happened to mention this to Gracie and today she barely touched her food. And she threw up. Could she be bulimic?