Yesterday was my first personal training session. Actually, last Monday was supposed to be, but my son had a little run in with a block tower. I tried my usual “you’re fine” hug, hug, kiss. But once the blood started trailing down his forehead, he was a tad hard to convince of the “fine” part. Go figure…
So, anyway, yesterday I made it all the way through one session. Lest you be overly impressed, let me explain that this was not an in-your-face keep-going you-can-do-it all out go-for-the-burn session like you see on Work Out. But it was good and I accomplished my goal–my butt hurts today. Isn’t that every girl’s dream? And my trainer reads romance–so that’s a cool addition.
I guess I’m lucky that I actually enjoying working out. I mean, like anyone I can and have gone through spells where I skip it, but I am not one of the lucky people blessed with skinny genes. Although I’m beginning to think fewer people are than we think. Look at Marcia Brady and Valerie Bertenelli. Obviously, they have the same struggles the rest of us do. Which just stinks. It was so much nicer for some twisted reason when there were those people who in your mind just looked good, and always would. I mean I know I can starve myself and workout like a crazed Marine and get a decent body–I wanted to think there were people who just WERE. I know, I know that is insane. Oh, well. (I also expect authors to look like their book covers–so obviously I have issues with reality.)
On the flip side (and somewhat changing track here), I was watching some TV show called models. It was all these up and coming young models–many from Europe. Hello!! You know that space between your thighs no real woman has? Uh, their’s were giganto! That just isn’t natural–of course they were also all sporting some lovely under eye circles, making me think they could use a few trips through the drive through, or at least something other than lettuce dipped in vinegar for lunch.
Anyway, off to spin class! Let the battle continue!!
