Me and my miracle man.

The Venus and Mars thing really makes me crazy, especially when it comes to men and women and weight loss. My husband and I are both following the South Beach, low-carb, low-fat diet. I stray from the permitted food choices far less than my husband does. I also work out with a personal trainer who kicks my butt four times a week. Tommy has yet to even jog in place for two minutes. However, when we both got on the Wii Fit scales yesterday he’d lost 4.4 pounds while I supposedly gained a pound. It had only been four days since I weighed myself and water weight can come into play but I was not a happy camper. To add insult to injury my husband says, “I guess one softy a week at Dairy Queen doesn’t hurt after all.” I wanted to smack him upside the head. I could drive through the Dairy Queen parking lot and gain two pounds. It just isn’t fair.

Men really don’t know how great they have it. We get the periods, cramps, and PMS only to be followed by menopause, hot flashes, night sweats, weight gain and mood swings, and what the heck do they get? They even look distinguished when they get grey, while we just look old. I doubt that it will even matter to me when I get to Heaven but right now I’d like to ask God what we did to deserve all the extra misery. Eve may have taken the apple from the serpent, but in my humble opinion, as the man of the garden Adam should have said no to the apple.

I’d really love to hear from you ladies out there who share in my frustration. Send me your tales of woe and I’ll post your comments. You know what they say, “Misery loves company.”

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