This morning I finally decided (again) to get back on the wagon with working out. Not the angry running I do on the treadmill where I cuss and yell at people in my head, but actual exercise of value. You already know how I feel about Interval Training. Barf. They say old habits die hard, but it must not really be a habit for me because I keep committing and then quitting.
I have written many times about The Female Body Breakthrough and how I had a lot of success with it in the past. Somehow I forget that eating whatever I want and watching too much reality TV is not as rewarding as working out and THEN eating whatever I want. You know and being able to breathe in my jeans.
This morning I looked at the "dining room" and decided that was the new gym space. We moved the dining room table out of there to accommodate the Christmas tree and haven't moved it back in yet, so it's a wide open space. Well, it's a 12x12 space with nothing in it anyway.
So I laced up my trainers and did that crazy dance we all do to get that stupid sports bra on. Grabbed my tubing and the book. Some weights and the bench from the kitchen. Yeah, I have resistance tubing. Coach probably gave it to me for a birthday present or something. Ha. Not kidding.
Three minutes later I was listening to Trey Songz Bottoms Up and it was ON.
Until I whacked the holy hell out of my head on this chandelier. I truly am Mary Katherine Gallagher, so clumsy and awkward it's a miracle I didn't knock my eye out.
I wrapped up the hour workout and patted myself on the back (actually did NOT because I was so sore I couldn't raise my arms, which makes it a gong show trying to get that sports bra OFF) and headed to Starbucks for a Skinny Vanilla Latte. Met a friend for lunch and stopped by the (gack!) sports store and bought a stability ball.
Which I promptly brought to The University weight room and had the Strength Coach (hi Joe!)inflate for me.
Look, I said I was working out. I didn't say I wanted to do actual work. Sheesh.