The Friday brain dump: Talking gymbags, Pink, and Wham!
Tunes for Tuesday: Space Age Love Song, by A Flock of Seagulls

I am my own reality star

Gail table flipper copy
Well, you won't be seeing me lose weight on national TV anytime soon. 

I had applied to be a contestant on a national weight-loss makeover show that airs weekly on cable, and although I made it through a couple of hurdles, I found out last week that I didn't make the final cut. It's one of those things that's completely out of my control. They're casting a show, so perhaps I was the wrong age or attitude or nationality. 

So I decided that I'll continue to lose this weight on my own and be my own reality star.

Let's see -- I'll need some challenges. How about:

  • Maneuver your way through the pantry full of healthy but addictive snacks that your teenage son requires for after school!
  • Try and schedule your workout while you wait for home repairmen to show up "sometime" during the day! (Failed that one today.)
  • Try not to get heatstroke or chased by 4-foot lizards while on your morning walk!

Scale drama? Nope, sorry. We've done away with that.

Working out until I pass out? No, not doing that anymore either.

I guess my reality show won't make for great TV, 'cuz how sexy is moderation?

"Extreme Moderation!" Call me, Hollywood.