I like the title of this post. I don't know why, but I do. I've had this saying floating around in my head for the last few days. I am not even sure that this is the correct form of the saying. Knowing me, it probably isn't. (I tend to make up words to things and then really think that my made up words are correct. My hubby thinks it's hilarious to listen to me sing along to the radio in the car.)
Anyway. I cheated on my diet. I went to a wedding shower for two friends and I cheated. It had been a really rough day for me. Not sure why, but I had a mini melt down for a half hour right before we went. Tears and all. Thank goodness for a forgiving, understanding husband. I apologized later, not that the apology excuses things.
Anyway. Again. I drank two cups of the punch (sprite/7UP, sherbert, canned juice, etc). You know, the really yummy kind. Probably all in all 32 oz. of punch. And I had strawberries. With melted chocolate on top. They had a miraculous chocolate fountain. Love those things. OH, also ate some fried chicken.
Hubby looked at me during my eating of this and was like, "Are you allowed to eat that stuff?" My answer? "No." And I kept eating.
That night, my belly was so bloated, it looked like I was AT LEAST 4 months pregnant. My belly gained about 3 inches around. It even felt firm when I palpated it. Yuck. I had headaches and nausea for the next two days. Wonderful!