So though it appears I've fallen off the skinny bitch wannabe wagon since I haven't posted anything about it in weeks (seriously, I can't even find my last post), I want you to know that I am firmly clutching the rail of said wagon.
In other words, I'm still working out and resisting the urge to eat pizza and spicy chicken sandwiches (no mayo) from Wendy's every day of my life.
It's helped because my friend Tammy and I have been going to Zumba every Thursday and now Sundays. If I could manage to go on Tuesday I totally would but then Olivia would be late for dance every time. If I could convince Matt to fucking help me out and just drop her off, then I could go. But then it would cut into my time with the other dance moms and honestly- I look forward to Tuesdays for that alone.
So, Zumba on Thursday and Sunday. It's going well. I still look like a hot ass mess with my fat deposits jiggling long after I've stopped. For having a Kardashian ass it's not as easy to sexily shake it like you see on TV. Seriously. Try gyrating your ass like a stripper and see what happens. I'm convinced these women are earning every germ infested, crumpled up dollar they get because to make your ass jiggle while nothing else does? That's talent, yo. I'm woman enough to admit I could never be a stripper for this reason alone.
Despite the fact of being in baton and dance for years, all of my rhythm and balance has seriously disappeared. I've discovered that I can no longer stand on my right foot for very long. Left foot? All day, bitches. Right foot? I will fall over like a stroke victim in rehab. I can do all the moves involving my left side but my right side is so uncoordinated, it's like half my brain can't comprehend doing the same thing just on the other side. It's bizarre. And I'm sure the ladies behind me think maybe I am a stroke victim instead of a moron with no skills.
And when your instructor tells you not to do every squat (all 100 of them throughout the hour) fully if you aren't used to it? She's not joking. You will get stuck on the toilet when your thighs cannot get you up and you will need assistance by your seven year old, while your four year old laughs at you. You will walk as if you have a full diaper and nobody will take you seriously when you brace the chair and table to sit down and get up. It's not cute and you need to not do that again.
But you will because you are stupid and you will find yourself in the same position. Except this time you won't be able to sit on the toilet fast enough and you will need new pajamas. I don't know first hand obviously, but this is just what I'm assuming. Totally.
So yes, I'm still exercising. Diet? Meh- I'm not even trying. I won't even lie. I fucking love me some french fries. Honestly, baby Jeebus wouldn't have given them to us if he didn't want us to eat them. Obviously.