So Sweet Husband found a bakery by our house that makes glazed croissants.
Let me just say that again. Glazed. Croissants.
That take everything flaky, beautiful and majestic about a croissant and then put doughnut glaze on it.
I don't have enough words in my vocabulary to tell you how much I enjoy these.
They're better than unicorns people.
Sweet Husband being the sweet husband that he is, started buying a box of these every time he made a grocery store run. I felt like a kid at Christmas time, and I made sure to do my part and eat at least a few of them, every time they appeared.
But, then my pants starting getting a little tight. I sadly resigned myself to the fact that I needed to start working off these croissants before everything in my closet got too tight.
I dusted off the workout DVDs, grabbed a set of weight bands and got to work.
Three weeks into sweating off the croissants, tragedy struck.
My band snapped. While in use.
The rubbery tube of doom wrapped itself around my upper torso, shoulder and face leaving angry red welts in it's wake.
I spent the rest of the night icing my injuries and letting Sweet Husband take care me.
I should probably take up yoga.