What’s up with my chipmunk cheeks? Gah. I don’t get it. It’s not like my body is that bloated. I mean, I’m not at the lowest weight I’ve ever been, but I shouldn’t be fat enough to look like I’m hiding marshmallows in my cheeks. Is there such a thing as cheek lipo? But if I really AM fatter than I think (bathroom scale still not working), I’m sure my mother will tell me on Saturday. An hour ago she invited herself to come with me this Saturday to my wedding gown alteration appointment. She initially invited my dad along, too, but I convinced her he wouldn’t want to go to something like that. I can hear her now when she sees the dress on me for the first time. “I still think you should get something with sleeves to cover your big arms. Maybe they’ll take this dress back as a trade-in. Want me to go ask them?”

But it is my fault if I did chunk up. Due to our current child molestation trial (my court reporter discovered that the common denominator among child molesters appears to be ownership of a van. Hence, if I am ever a mother I will not buy a van or befriend anyone who owns a van.) running late into lunch and our marriage license appointment yesterday among other factors which mostly translate to “we didn’t feel like it”, Gym Trainee and I missed our noontime workouts this entire week. But we did walk Monday, Tuesday and today at lunch to run our various errands. We probably put in a solid hour of walking the first two days. Today, however, the walk ended at a local Mexican food restaurant, I ate half a wet burrito that had such a spicy red sauce that the heartburn lasted me through the afternoon, well into the evening, through my gym workout after work, and made me so sluggish and sick that I took way longer breaks in between sets than I should have. I’m sure the crumb donut and half a cookie I had before I left work (leftovers from the jurors) didn’t help, either.

I’m a house mouse with chipmunk cheeks.