Arizona Makes You Fat

Arizona's been getting a lot of flack lately, and I'm jumping right on that bandwagon and telling them they are the reason for my jiggly middle. Consider this my very own public service announcement and warning against Arizona.

I'm a fairly health conscious California girl. I eat vegetables. I run. I partake in the group torture called CrossFit. Then my husband up and moved to Arizona.

Ok I guess I'm being a little dramatic. He didn't exactly up and move to Arizona. He has been working really hard so that I can continue pursuing my dreams which, believe it or not, probably won't wind up making me any money... I digress. Anyway, he was offered a great *temporary* opportunity in Arizona and I was completely supportive but like pretending to throw him under the bus because, well, that's what I do. All this to say, Arizona is going to be getting a lot of the Murdock dollars because this wife enjoys actually spending time with her husband.

As I was saying, here in California I am pretty healthy. I enjoy being active and treat myself to frozen yogurt instead of brownie sundaes on most weekends. In Arizona, even in May, it's too flipping hot to do anything but find the closest Anthropologie, watch TV on the couch in an air conditioned apartment, and go out to dinner after dark. Just walking through the Costco parking lot I broke a sweat! I tried to be healthy last weekend when I visited the hubs and his new digs, but look what happened. I consider myself a victim here, and refuse any personal responsibilities you may think I have.

Friday night: I fly in. I get picked up in a gas-guzzling Dodge that kind of looks like a superhero car and has awesome air conditioning. We get lost. For 2 hours. [This explains the next day's Costco trip to get a GPS.] We are so hungry we could eat anything. But you know when you're THAT hungry, everything and nothing sound good? We drive around for at least 30 minutes looking at place after place, strip mall after strip mall. We settle on Texas Roadhouse. ?!?!?!?. I order a beer. ??!?!?!?!?!. We consume at least 3 times more calories than normal Californians should consume.

Saturday: I put on my running clothes, figuring I will at least get a power walk in. I drop G off at work. I attempt to find the Costco that was down the street. It takes 25 minutes. I break a sweat walking into Costco. "Did you know wine is less expensive in Arizona? I love Arizona!" I find the GPS, a bottle of Conundrum, a Pinot Grigio, string cheese, a massive pink towel for the pool, and granola. I break a sweat walking out of Costco. I still haven't eaten breakfast.

Insert another story here -- Glenn offered to get me breakfast near his work, but I decided I needed to be healthy after Friday's Texas sweet roll and rib attack. I stopped by a Starbucks to get a low-fat breakfast sandwich with egg whites only and they were out. Convinced I would find another healthy option between where I was and home, I kept driving. There were NO options that were not fast food. My choices at this point are to starve and then be in a food mood, or to choose between Burger King, Wendy's and Chick-fil-A. Back to the timeline.

I choose Chick-fil-A. I order a biscuit with egg and cheese. I plan to only eat half of the biscuit and get my protein fix in a non-fried form to at least be *moderately* nutritious. I take my order back to the apartment to eat in the air conditioning. They gave me a CHICKEN biscuit with egg and cheese! I ate almost all of it. Sabotage. Arizona hates me.