Not throwing up all over Kristen's mat during Yoga. I'm pretty sure this was a total success since my little sugar demons took hold of my body and inhaled and entire--YES, ENTIRE--package of Sprees between the gas station and the gym (note: that is about a two minute drive) right before our Yoga class.
You see, I have a little problem with highly refined sugar. I only indulge in this problem once every few months, but when I do, look out.... it gets ugly. I would steal candy from a puppy, a kitten, a baby, a blind guy... you name it. I don't care. When the overwhelming need for that highly refined, purely horrid goodness takes over, I can't help myself. And it hits when I least expect it, all I did was run into the gas station for a bottle of "G" (horrid marketing tactic Gatorade) to drink before Yoga because my allergy medication drys me out like nothing else, so I was beyond parched all day. When I was walking toward the checkout I was faced with that beautiful, light shining down, angels singing over it wall of candy. It was over, the sugar demon took over, mumbling under it's breath, pushing some dude out of the way, and started grabbing and hoarding any highly refined candy it saw like there was no tomorrow. Sprees. SweeTarts. ShockTarts. Sour Patch Kids. Quik Trip made a killing on me.
I really was quite impressed and surprised that during standing triangle revolved I didn't splat regurgitated Sprees all over Kristen's mat. I warned her, and she knows me well. Her clever little lawyer response you ask? "Nice Robinson. You vomit on my mat, I sue your small annoying ass." That's what yoga buddies are for.
Please pay no mind to the fact that I went grocery shopping after said class and proceeded to buy Chocolate Mint Milano's, beer cheese, Pringles, and some wine and beer. That's a good little marathon trainer....