So I have finally actually started going to the gym again after the whole pregnancy shmozzle. Now, I know I told you people that I was going weeks and weeks ago.. but it was locked when I got there and I had also taken my son's shoes by mistake. So I came home and holed up on the couch for an extra few weeks with all the chocolate I could afford. But fun time is now over for me. The chocolate is gone. I knew this day would come. Plus, I went shopping for new non-maternity clothes and that. was. muy. depressing. Nothing will kick you in the arse like clothes shopping (there is just nothing like having to buy an ugly shirt because you cried and goobered all over it in the change room to motivate you). So I restarted my gym regimen. Tally ho. Off I went.
I made it for a pitiful wheezing 45 minutes of half walking, half jogging on the treadmill. I found myself in a position strikingly similar to those character you see in cheap movies being forced to walk at gunpoint after having the tar beaten out of them. At least the only person was a weird old man in jeans... or maybe I should worry about that... I unno. Anyway, soon enough I'll be back to trying to look impressive while clutzing around somewhat painlessly on the universal resistanator machines in hideous jogging pants. Right now I have no hope, just the hideous jogging pants.
Plus Neil is going to teach me his awesome ninja skills. Pretty soon I'll be able to beat everyone up, but first I have to catch my breath.
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