The 141st running of the Kentucky Derby did me in. In so many ways. I think it’s time for an InDerbvention.
Kentucky Derby, your existence has negatively affected my life in the following ways:
I can no longer eat your delicious treats without completely sidelining my diet. Your insistence on having an Official Derby Pie, and things like Bourbon Barrel Cake are causing my body to expand. Even something that used to be as innocent as a multi-layer taco dip is no longer safe. I am unable to pass the dip without inhaling approximately half of it, along with the necessary number of salty chips. At the end of your weekend, I had not only gained back the weight I recently lost, but am now 1/2 pound heavier than before I began.
Your merriment and celebratory atmosphere encourage me to drink excessive amounts of adult (alcoholic) beverages. While that, in and of itself, should not be a problem, you apparently forget that I’m no longer the party pro that I used to be. Although my status never went over the line into wasted, or sloppy, the repercussions were significantly frustrating. Sunday was merely a blur of minor events – during which all I wanted to do was sleep – and the times I was, actually, sleeping. Even C25K hasn’t exhausted me the way that you did this year. Not to mention that alcohol is just as bad for the diet (refer to previous paragraph).
I love you, Kentucky Derby, and like to remember many things about our lives together. We used to roll with the punches and come out smiling. You often placed my choice horse in first, second or third place. You always inspired me to create beautiful, outrageous, prize-winning hats. I didn’t even wear a hat this year.
More than anything else, you were my introduction to the part of Florida I now call home. You were absolutely a contributing factor in my decision to move here.
However, your careless behavior and the havoc you wreak upon my daily routine, and juvenile attempts at fitness, leave me no choice. I can no longer support your devil-may-care lifestyle and will not be a part of it.
At least not for the next 360-some odd days.