I find it ironic that today is national doughnut day, the day I turn fifty. I was hoping to wake up to national free day at T.J. Maxx, not some reminder of the extra dough I seem to be carrying with me. Believe me when I say it is not residing in my pocketbook, but more around my middle and thighs. I was certain God was hearing my prayer about these extra fifteen pounds. I was certain He was going to take them away for my milestone birthday. I was certain I was going to fit back into those size six jeans in my closet today. Instead the only six I will see is the six my husband has in the refrigerator (actually 11, but it is never good to have a man run out of beer).
I need to get off my butt this summer as The Lord only helps those who help themselves. Those size six jeans are not going to magically fit this size ten butt. I would love to participate in National Doughnut Day and indulge in a dozen dripping hot glazed doughnuts, but instead I will refrain so by summer’s end I can be like the sign at Krispy Kreme when they are ready–hot and now…