Well, That Was a Bust. (And not the good kind!)

I should've known.
OK, actually, I DID know.  I just didn't listen. To the little voice in my head saying "Don't do it!" when I bought the FitBit on Sunday.
And ended up returning it on Monday.
Heck, even my computer knew I'd have trouble!  It refused to recognize the file when I tried to set it up for synching!  Like it was saying "Look, kid, I know you.  You've been pounding on my keys for a while now, and let me just save you the heartache and tsuris."
But I didn't listen to THAT, either.  Instead, I set it up on Hubby's computer.
Which led to all sorts of issues.

Until, finally, I gave in to the Inevitable and Got My Money Back.

I probably should've stuck with a plain ol' pedometer.
Or not.
Just do my workouts and not worry so much about the stats.  After all, MyFitnessPal is doing all the grunt work for me in that area.

Ah well.  At least I was able to return it.
And I'm much happier now.

Speaking of busts, I got my mammogram results, and I'm all clear.  (They even sent me a link so I can look at the 3-D images.)  I haven't had nearly as much pain or discomfort on my side, so hopefully the cyst is going away, as well.  Had a bit of discomfort last night, after overdoing  it a bit in my workout.  Other than than, nada for the past few days.  I'll get another ultrasound next week.  Hopefully it'll begone completely by then.And keeping on the subject of busts (and hips, thighs, tummies, etc.), I've been looking at a lot of art, lately.  Mostly reproductions or pictures online.  But I've been seeing quite a bit of nudes.  And I always knew that different body types were revered in days past, but I've been thinking that, had I lived a couple of centuries ago, I totally could've been an artists' model.
And maybe even a mistress to one or two.  Or twelve.

I'd like to think I'd've been a bohemian girl.  Staying out late in cafes, drinking absinthe, arguing philosophy, dancing 'til dawn, and crawling home to my tiny apartment to sleep until noon, then downing lots of Turkish coffee and doing it all over again.
Being a bit (or a lot) naughty.  More so than I've had the guts to be in this life.
Of course, I might have come to a bad end.  But I really would have enjoyed the ride for as long as it lasted!

I think I had a chance to do some of that back when I was a student at NYU.  After all, it was the late 80's/early 90's, and it was Greenwich Village!  NYC before the gentrification.  Where a couple of single girls could still afford an apartment in Park Slope, if they had decent enough jobs.  Or a studio on the Upper West Side.
But I was too scared.  I was too good.  The naughtiest thing I ever did was perform "Rocky Horror" in front of 600 strangers every weekend.  Well, that, and sneak the occasional underage wine cooler.  (Because the delis on 6th Avenue never carded.  We'd wash down our jalapeno potato chips with mixed berry Bartell's & James.  Ah, the steely digestive tract of the 19 year-old!)
However...my choices have led me to where, and whom, I am.  And that's pretty darn good!

So while I try and whittle away at my belly and lift my butt back up to (at least) circa 2007 proportions, I will continue to write my porn-er-erotica, look at great art, and celebrate my ripe-peach-like figure.

And I'll do it all with as little technology as possible, thankyouverymuch!