I'm a pinner. A Pinterest addict of the worst kind.
I know what I want my wedding to look like, what I want my kids bedrooms to look like, the color of my nails on any particular day (and holy gooseballs I love this color. Now You Sea Me L'oreal.)
I also know the exact work out regimen I would like to take on.
Damn you Pinterest and all of your hot girls in little bikini's pictures. DAMN YOU I SAY!
Really? |
I started working out because I've hit my metabolic plateau. Scientifically speaking... I have a gut folks. Plain and simple, I eat like a horse, never work out and whine because I lost the sessiness.
I like what little curvage I have right now. To be honest and true it's just the gut that stands out to my dismay. I can't see my feet in the shower anymore and that is a problem to me.
That means I've gotten lazy... again.
See, a few months ago I was all for working out. I was sweating and running and being an all around badass when it came to weights, I could do 20 dips without it really feeling like my frail wrists were going to snap at any given second. Did I lose 1lb of weight? No... in fact I gained a few pounds. Blah blah blah muscle weighs more than fat. I will trachea punch the next person to tell me that shit. Just because it's true doesn't mean it doesn't piss me off.
Ok, sorry. Goosefrabaaaa.
I did however start to fit into my clothes better if that makes sense. Unfortunately my downfall through all of this is that I despise cardio. Give me a truck to lift and I'll give it a shot. Give me a treadmill to run on and I will walk backwards on it for 3 minutes and then decide I want a twinkie.
Le boring.
The treadmill I have at my apartment gym faces the pool. I see all of these teeny tiny high school girls getting their splash on and you would think that would motivate me but in reality it just depresses the shit out of me. I feel like a creeper for looking at them and I know I will never have that body again. I didn't even have that body in High School. I was a comfortable size 3 who hadn't quite filled out yet. I'm up to a size 7-9 depending on the store and although I still don't see that as a big deal, the girls playing by the pool have taught little tummies. Tummies that I want to punch because they're so sickeningly pretty.
Ugh. GOOOSEEEFRABAAA.
Don't even get me started on that whore called the elliptical. If there weren't cameras watching me I'd set that bitch on fire. That is how much I hate that thing.
I never look at super skinny anorexic girls and say "Man I want that." I want something realistic and I know that takes time to achieve and even after you achieve it you have to keep it up but DAMN, I LOVE MY COOKIES.
I took "before" shots to track my improvement which was a (duh) mistake. Talk about depressing. I didn't know my back looked like that. For the love of keeping your lunch down I will not show you because I'm super sad about it.
Anyways...
I started working out 2 days ago and by God I felt the burn and in fact am still feeling the burn. It feels like someones bringing the hammer of death upon my legs every time I take a step.
Let me tell you ladies and dudes... this ain't no walk in the park. This shit hurts. I saw the work out regimen my lovely friend Laura so kindly wrote up for me and it said Every Tuesday and Thursday 2 min Jumping Jacks, 1 min Burpees, 1 min Jump Rope, 1 Min Knee Highs, 1 min Shadow Boxing, 1 min Jump Squats. I was like "Oh that's not bad." Psh... Not bad my ass. I thought I was gonna die! And then she wanted me to do it again?! Hahahaha she's funny.
I don't even want to talk about the weight training on Monday, Wednesday and Friday. I got a cramp in my leg while I was doing sit ups if that says anything. I was like OW OW OW WTF?!?!?
Wow my head itches.
So if you like work out blogs and funny bitches I suggest going here.
Hopefully by next week I'll be a little better at these work outs because right now I feel like I suck worse than a newbie porn star. It's just not good.
Eat a cookie for me tonight and maybe a bowl of ice cream if you please. Cookies N' Cream... Mmmmm.
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