I Miss My Feet...

Jeremy and I were standing in the bathroom. Our bathroom, like so many others, is equipped with a measuring device that tells you exactly how fat you are. Jeremy quietly snuck up on it, and waited. He sagged a little, and glumly looked at me.

"I weigh --- (I won't say how much, since Jeremy is the sensitive, I-will-kill-you-if-you-tell sort)."

I looked at him, looked at myself, and replied.

"We're fat."

We then high-fived, and ate a box of Ding Dongs.

That inspired me to want to work out (yay! I have no ab muscles!). It was pretty sad. Jeremy and I were breathing hard and sweating profusely as we feebly attempted to follow the instructor through her warm up exercises (what's even sadder is that both of us get winded when we walk quickly down the hallway). Luckily, the video is only 20 minutes long. You can do anything for 20 minutes, right?? I bet you anything I could eat chocolate for 20 minutes straight, and still be going strong...

Jeremy glared at me as I smugly opted out of exercises I'm "not supposed to do."

I think both of us have taken our young bodies for granted, and now that our fat cells are staging a coup, we are wishing we hadn't stopped going for our daily walks, and working out (intermittent as it was).

So, I am looking forward to not having to tote around this bowling ball anymore, and start whipping my body into shape. I would also like to be able to paint my toe nails without having to convince my body it's a pretzel and without my legs going numb. Nevertheless, I managed to do this:

Woo hoo, leopard print! Rrrarrr!