The Gym Whore Gets Fat (based on a true story)

I have managed to succeed, thus far, in maintaining my Gym Whore title. I am still miles from regaining my title of Buff Jess, but Gym Whore shall do for now. It feels great to be working out again, and I've already started seeing the results in terms of tightness in my stomach/legs/arms/pretty much everywhere. But the soreness can be slightly debilitating sometimes. Like when I have to grab a step-stool at work to reach items on shelves because I can't quite lift my arms over my head...

I wasn't Gym Whore this weekend, though. But have no fear, it was for a good reason: I was getting fat with Eric. If eating were an academic endeavor, we'd be PhD's. Oh, fo shizzle.

We set out early Saturday afternoon on a quest to buy the necessary groceries for a yet-unspecified gourmet meal, which we were to cook that night. We're ambitious and slightly overconfident in our cooking ability like that. Uhhuh. Anyway, along the way, we dropped into Devil's Alley, where we brunched on 1) corn pancakes w/apple butter, strawberries, blueberries & bananas, and 2) chorizo, cheddar & jalapeno scrambled eggs (yum!). We then found ourselves in Chinatown, where we of course couldn't resist dropping into a bakery for some goodies. We finally made it to Whole Foods, where we giddily piddled ourselves over our dinner menu of choice: seared yellowfin tuna topped with alfalfa sprouts and thinly sliced shiitake mushrooms on a bed of homemade garlic mashed potatoes, drizzled with a soy-sesame+wasabi vinaigrette, served with a side of roasted asparagus. And some Black Velvets.

We dimmed the lights, put out some candles and flowers, and ate up. It was freakin' orgasmically good. And I never say anything is freakin' orgasmically good. I usually just say "yum!"

The old CurryNight (Karina) crew came over, and we laughed a lot. Then we finished off a pretty f*ckin' perfect day with CapoGiro. Yep. I do loves me my dessert.

All in all, it was a pretty f*ckin' perfect weekend. And now, tastebuds happy and my stomach in rest-mode, I'll happily return to my Gym Whore life.

Happy spring break to all the crazy college kids out there. Have fun, but heed this warning: neither drunkenly-acquired injury nor second-degree sunburn is a fun souvenir. And neither is venereal disease, so just be careful while you party it up.