I don’t write about dieting. So this blog isn’t about dieting. Nothing grates on my nerves worse than listening to size six women complain about being fat. I am a happy size six and I’m far from complaining. Now that we’ve cleared that up… I gained four pounds in three days of being in Vegas. LOL
The food in Vegas is great and it is in abundance.
On Friday we planned our day around dinner. We started the day walking the four-mile Las Vegas Strip. I am lying to myself that the four pounds is accredited to the muscle mass gained in my calves from all the walking. I wore boots, jeans and a tank top. My boots are comfy, but maybe not meant for walking such a distance. After a few medicinal cocktails, I cared less about the tenderness that was growing in my feet and we practically danced back to our hotel to change for dinner.
I don’t do heels by nature, but being that we were in Vegas, I stepped into a pair of four inchers and we headed for the cab. The Rio has a buffet that spans around 20,000 yummy square feet and it was our dining destination for the evening. By the time we were dropped at the door and crossing through the big golden doors of the casino, the medicinal therapy was officially worn off and my feet were burning. It felt like my heels were lined with battery acid.
We crossed the huge hotel twice before deciding on the first buffet that we’d originally stumbled upon back near the entrance we came in. I was leaning heavily on my man’s arm by the time we got back to the line. The host showed us to our table at the furthest end of the room possible. I seriously considered toting my cute black heels in hand and crossing the room barefoot. When we reached our table, the buffet section meant for kids was closest to our table. My first thought was, “Pizza is fine by me!”
After sucking up the pain, I did choose the hibachi grill over chicken nuggets and cheese pizza. My jeans are suffering for it back in Nashville. Maybe it was the hibachi chicken… or the free scoops of ice cream… or the chocolate éclairs… or all the medicinal drinks, I don’t really know. I’m still telling myself that it’s all muscle mass simply displaced to my midsection.
Either way, four pounds or not, I’d gain ten to be back in Sin City. Now only if dieting would work the way it really should. For instance, I should be rewarded with a lost pound for passing up the chocolate ganache cake that I decided not to eat for breakfast this morning. We’ll see how that works out…
If you’ve been reading my blogs for any amount of time you’re probably ready for yet another meaningless life event blown up into some grand over thought analogy right? Well, you are in luck! This one begins with a tale from The Adventures of Dale Hollow Lake, a book that I will someday win the Pulitzer for… or maybe not.I love being on the lake, but I’m not an avid water sports woman by any stretch of the imagination. My adventures usually involve a chick-lit novel, a floatation device (worn like a diaper) and a cold Corona with lime. I might get a little crazy from time to time depending upon the heat of the sun and wind up mildly tipsy and radically sunburned, but that’s usually where the excitement ends.
