So, I started working out.
In a gym.
That's right. I am a workout girl.
Gym rat.
Weightlifter.
Yeah, I lift weights.
A couple of weeks ago I met with a dear friend who is a few steps down the road from me and she gave me some great advice for life, including to start working out at least three times a week. Right around that same time we were offered a year long Y membership for an extremely reduced rate. Could God have been speaking any more directly to me?
I am fortunate Mike has done all he can to help me find time in the week to get to the Y. It is not easy, especially since Thomas HATES the childcare. I am not sure why. They are very nice, have lots of great toys and nobody pinches him. Olivia loves it in fact and is excited when we go.
My plan of action is to start taking him swimming post work out in the hopes that he learns there is something in this for him.
So now, for some reason, I think this means I can eat as many and as much dessert as I want. Twice a day. Double portions, whatever. Heck, I even had ice cream for dinner one night (this was after the kids went to bed, I did not torture them at the table singing "Look what I can do that you can't, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah"). I really don't think this new found hobby is going to have the effect I am hoping for on my body at this rate, unless lifting really heavy spoonfuls of ice cream to my mouth counts as a workout....
For a little nostalgia, I looked this up on YOUTUBE for your viewing pleasure. Enjoy and remember back to when SNL was funny, or sort of funny.
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