Tested

Last night was my office Holiday Party. (Nothing like getting around to it two weeks after Christmas.) It's the one night a year that the Hubster and I get a babysitter, leave the girls at home, and truly have a night to ourselves.

I spent the morning running around, doing some last minute cleanup before my friend came by to babysit, and eating light so I could pig out at dinner. We ate lunch around 1:30, and then I showered, and started getting ready. When we left a little before 5, I was starving, and cursing myself for not eating before hand, KNOWING the dinner wouldn't start for almost two more hours. I convinced the Hubster that it wouldn't be THAT many points if we stopping at Wendy's for a Junior cheeseburger off the dollar menu. That cheeseburger really hit the spot, and I'm glad I ate it and didn't go over board on the punch and crudities they had there.

When we arrived at the party, there was a short ceremony, honoring the employees who have been with the company for five or more years, which, this year, included myself. I was given a framed certificate, and an envelope containing $25. Now, I had specifically not brought any cash with me so I wouldn't buy any drinks at the bar, but now I had $25, and a glass of wine sounded soooooo good. I settled on a diet soda (for $1.75) and another glass of punch.

The salad came around, and I picked the croutons off my plate, and drizzled a small amount of creamy Italian dressing over it. I took a roll, unwrapped a pat of butter, then wrapped it back up and pushed it aside. I ate the roll, though, and it was worth every bite. Dinner was a thick cut of sirloin steak with garlic and mushrooms over it, green beans with slivered almonds, and two new potatoes, with everything covered in about a gallon of butter. I'll be honest here...I ate everything except for the green beans, because they were undercooked. I tried to eat slow, drinking water and putting my fork down between bites, but it was so good, that pretty soon my plate was almost empty. I told myself that I just wouldn't have dessert.

But then dessert came. Sherbet in little champagne glasses with those chocolatey-shortbread-tube-things sticking out. My eyes widened, and I knew I was eating it. (I was thanking WW for those flex points, by this time; I still haven't figured out how many points I ate last night.) Dessert was wonderful, the entertainment was so-so, and then the DJ started.
Our company hires a DJ approximately every other year for our parties. One year we'll have one, and no one will stay or no one will dance, so the next year, they won't hire one, and then people complain that there isn't any music, so the next year, they'll hire one...and the cycle continues. This guy...I'm not sure if it was his first time, or if he just didn't know what good music is, but the first 10 or so songs he played were nothing you could dance to. In between each song, there would be a long pause while he got the next one ready, and sometimes a song would start, and then stop, and then a different song would start, and then stop...it was awful to listen to.
I love to dance. Part of my worries about what I look like on the dance floor, but most of me knows I know more moves and dance better than a lot of the skinnier people I work with. I was tapping my feet, waiting for him to play something good and trying to think of what I could request he play. (I didn't feel right going up to him and just asking him to play something that doesn't suck. I felt I should be more specific.) Finally, "The Twist" came on. Swing! I grabbed the Hubster, and started dancing on the way to the dance floor. People cheered that someone was finally dancing, and a friend of mine soon joined us. More people came, and soon there were 20-30 people twisting on the dance floor. It was fun, but my knees and ankles were killing me. I swore that next year, I will be in so much better shape, I'll be able to dance all night. We stayed on the dance floor for the rest of "The Twist," and then "Shout," "Rockin' Robin," and some of the other oldies, fun, Swing, dancing in a big circle songs. The Hubster and I slow danced to "Unchained Melody," and stumbled through "My Girl," while I whispered in his hear, trying to get him to step up the pace a bit. After that, "Dancing Queen" came on, and everyone left the dance floor. We decided it was time for us to go, and stopped to say goodbye to people. Someone said I had to stay, because they were playing my song, so I stepped back on the dance floor and did a little disco dancing. (Having the time of my life, ya know.) We all laughed, and the hubster and I came home.
My friend had ordered pizza, and there was a bit left over, and it was calling me from the fridge. I opened the box to find half a piece left--Little Sister's, I'm guessing--so I heated it up, ate it, and went to bed feeling pretty happy with myself.
This morning, I woke up feeling a little sore from dancing, but mostly in my feet and ankles from my heels. I ate a good, healthy breakfast, and I *plan* on exercising today. In fact, today, I'm going to start exercising every day. Well, almost every day. I'll have to see how it goes.

So, yes, I was tested. Yes, I ate a lot, but yes, I had a lot of fun. I danced a lot, too, so some of those calories don't count...Right?