It turns out, exercising is not nearly as fun as a Dr Pepper, Cadbury chocolate eggs, and a good TV show.
Yesterday I left the chubby-tubby club and started exercising.
On the drive to St. George the other day, my brother mentioned that sugar and not exercising make a terrible terrible combination. That put pure fear in me! (That and those McDonald's billboards that have a bone and a soda-saying that if you drink soda your bones will pay!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) I got so scared I decided I'd better turn myself around.
I thought that Sunday would be my fun-day so O and I went rollerblading/bike riding. (Me on the roller blades, O on my new bike-he claims my roller blades hurt him because they are so small, but really, he is simply terrified of the speed you can get on those.)
Monday comes around.
Today I started P90X again.
I decided to start out slow-just 30 min of aerobic activity.
I knew I was in trouble when I fell out of my cool-down shower. (fortunately for you, I will not be posting pics of that)
In retrospect, I was in bad shape 2 minutes into the warm-up when my legs started shaking like Jello in an earthquake. I slogged through the rest of the 3 minute prep, 20 minutes of torturous squatting maneuvers, and a few more minutes of cool-down (during which I was calling the pizza guy so I could only stretch one arm).
No, this is not me, nor is this my cat. I was looking around for a good image to inspire us all to workout. Judging by the amount of images, it would seem that people find cats with poor grammar who work out in amazing/impossible ways rather humorous. Very strange.
I hope I have not overdone it. Right now I look like a toy soldier, my legs are snapping about like rubber bands and I'm a little nervous about how I'm going to get to work tomorrow. I don't think that my boss will understand if I tell him I cannot walk to the building but, I don't think I will be able to walk to the building.
The high point of my evening was the pizza! (Which I've been thinking about since last Wednesday, when it was shot down time after time as a dinner option.) (Again, on the drive to St George, my Mom tried to convince me that pizza is not particularly healthy. However, she also said it wasn't particularly bad as long as you don't eat it 5 days a week.)
If I end up getting crazy into this, I'll post some pics of my bikini-clad super hero-esque body. Right now, I'm looking down at my stomach lolling on the couch and wonder if this is really so bad.