Packing on the Pasta

Well, ladies and gents, it is officially that time where I make a confession. A big one. 

I haven't been to the gym in over a month.

God, I know! What the hell am I doing?! Eating pasta and donuts like I need them to survive? Partying it up like my liver can handle it. I think it's about that time where I get back on track. There was a good amount of months where I went to the gym at least 3 cardio-packed occasions a week, and I felt a huge difference in my being. My outlook on my repetitive life was much more positive, my flabby belly was starting to tone up (a little...) and I felt like I could just fly to the moon. My excuse has been that I haven't had much time, which is true. The show took up a lot of that time, I know, but now? I just have no energy left after working so late and staying out at night. I need to get it together before I have another mental breakdown. 

Anyway, I was talking to my good friend George Michael Michael George and I mentioned how I don't often post on here, mainly because I feel like all I do is complain about things that are going wrong in my life. I think ultimately that it's what I have always done with my journals, but every once and a while, when looking back, I love reading those incredibly joyous entries. It's nice to be reminded of the complete happiness I felt then.  Like the 5 year old girl I babysit for said, we remember the bad memories more because there are less of them in comparison to the happy ones. 

Such a smart little curly haired girl.

Anycrap, I just ate the most amazing pasta EVER and now I'm going to a party, so I have to get up and going. 

I know, I know.. It's just so much easier than the gym!