Yeah, still not feelin' the blogging thing. But I don't have much to report. I'm in a self-improvement rut. I'm totally stuck at 114.4, or 115.4, depending on time of day, month, and spot on the bathroom floor. I'm Bringin' It with Ena and/or Steve whenever possible, but schedules do not always permit (we only got to Bring It once this week), so then I have to rely on my sporadic Skype workouts with my sister in St. Paul. The good news is that I am actually starting to miss working out when I don't do it. Yeah! Because motivating to do the workout has always been like 99.8% of my problem. So last weekend, when I was left to my own devices, I intentionally went for a walk (which would have worked out better without the toy poodle that pooped out after 20 minutes and had to be carried home), and then ripped up my abs with the ol' Ab Ripper X -- sixteen minutes of ab-tastic fun with "in-and-outs," "crunchy frogs," and "mason twists." Yeah, it's as fun as it sounds. But even with sparse work outs, I think I'm seeing some improvement -- the layer of fat on my arms is less dimply and I feel less like a breakfast muffin in my jeans and stuff. I think if I keep it up, I might eventually get back into shape. It just may be more like P900X -- what's that, like 2.5 years?
So today was a good day -- Ena and I did shoulders, back and triceps, PLUS Ab Ripper X, and then I did 50 minutes of Power Yoga with my sister and the Yee tonight. Now if I can only work out like maybe one or two more times this week. And for the rest of my frickin' life. Sigh. SO depressing. The Crazy Bitches of New Jersey are my only solace -- I can always rely on them for some excellent cussing, fighting, more cussing, some unnecessary scary plastic surgery, fighting again, and then some more cussing with Jersey accents. All good and I feel better. And classier, Bitch!
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