I almost worked out again tonight after I got home from work, but I’m a girl and I have to sit down to pee … and when I was there I thought, damn, I don’t want to go upstairs and get all breathless, I’d rather stay here and have a screwdriver and eat something good.

That said, last night’s workout was grand. Afterwards, I could feel my lungs in my chest and that’s always a good sign that I worked out hard enough to breathe heavily. That’s the key to burning weight, you know: breathing. Only there wasn’t a lot of fat burning going on last night, it was more of a muscle re-introduction kind of thing. Especially when I consider the bike--I climbed off of that thing feeling bow-legged, probably looking like wheezy veal about to be slaughtered.

And you know, I’m upset that there is veal available for us to eat. And lobsters. And tuna. I know if I saw firsthand how these animals are slaughtered, I would become a vegetarian on the spot. Mutal of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom used to plunge me into the depths of hell as a kid. “What’s happening?!” I'd demand of Mom in my skreechy Poltergeist voice. “Why is Marlin letting the lion eat Bambi?!”

I’ve avoided the footage and the reality of how animals are killed for our consumption. I won’t eat anything that I’ve met face-to-face. And I know I need to work on my consistency in this regard, because I know a little about how animals are tor-- … oh, never mind. Thinking about this stuff gives me indigestion and makes me sad.

I could feel my lovehandles swaying in the wind today. There I was feeling all warm and powerful-like because I’d been waving those suckers last night on the elliptical and bike machine. It was liberating, because I know I’m going to get rid of that roll … so I purposely made ‘em jiggle all that much more.

Eat your heart out, Hollywood.