Boot Camp Butt Kick

On Saturday morning, I woke up to the incredibly annoying sound my phone makes when it is trying to wake me up.  There are a lot of sounds I can sleep right through.  TV, music, thunder and traffic are a few examples.  Why don't I just change it?  Because, then I wouldn't get up to hit snooze or turn it off.  It would just keep right on beeping, playing, dinging, whatever.  As bad as it is during the week, when the incessant squawking just reminds me that I have another day of work, on Saturday morning it was my worst nightmare.  It meant that I had to get up and go to Boot Camp.

I have never been a boot camp kind of girl.  Mostly, because I was scared.  I mean, really, who actually likes to have someone in their face yelling at them while they are most likely doing something that they don't actually want to do anyway?  Then I heard about the No Teacher Left Behind program by Jay's Boot Camp.  Jay is the trainer for the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders.  Who wouldn't want to look like one of those girls even on their "fat" days?  Since I haven't been able to motivate myself to go to Yoga or work out on my own, I thought, "what the hell?"  I forked over $100 for a four week session which allowed me to attend as many classes at any location that I choose.  Since there are classes offered three days a week in Rockwall, it seemed perfect.

After class number 1, I came home and laid on the living room floor for 30 minutes until the nausea passed.  The next day, everything hurt.  EVERYTHING.  The day after that, it hurt even worse!  But, I attended class number 2 and repeated this process all over again.  I kind of liked it.  Class number 3, total exhaustion, but no more soreness.  In class number 4, we did so many cherry pickers, it made me want to throw away the cherries I had bought the day before.  Class number 5 made me never want to lay down again and Class number 6 brought back the nausea and pain that only bleachers can bestow upon a person.  It was great.

The instructors are great and the workouts are unbelievable.  There is no yelling.  Just words of encouragement and the right amount of push.  I've even taken a few of my workouts to school and had my varsity team do them.  When even girls half my age struggled I started to feel even better about what I had accomplished.

Do I like being sore?  No.  Do I like vomiting during my workouts?  Of course not.  Do I like it when my pants are a little less snug and my legs don't jiggle?  Heck yeah, I do.  So yes, I will keep suffering through the pain and heat.  Did I mention these classes take place outside at 7PM.  107 is HOT.

Now, I'm off to eat some Oreos and milk.  That is something worth working out for!

Worst Blogger Ever.

I could possibly be the worst blogger ever.  I have all these little things that happen or random thoughts that I want to talk about but never want to write down.  I would probably be a much better radio or talk show host, because, as my husband will tell you, I can talk about anything for any amount of time without needing any input or guidance.  Even if I don't necessarily know what I am talking about...I will still talk.  If that means making things up, so be it.

I have this innate ability to drive my husband crazy by arguing with him.  And I know everyone argues with their significant others every once in a while, but I will argue with mine even if I agree with him.  Seriously.  He will be making a point that I totally agree with but I will say something for no other reason that to challenge his perspective.  This has yet to work out well for me, but I am still unable to resist the opportunity to push his buttons a little.  Don't feel too sorry for him though.  He knows all my buttons will push them until I start flashing like some sort of computer game.

Tangents are my favorite course of direction.  That's another reason why talking is easier than writing.  I can't look back over a conversation, get irritated that it makes no sense, and then go back and change it...100 times.  Once its done, its done.  Is it always done right?  Of course not.  But it doesn't bother me when I hear craziness.  It bothers me when I try to read it.  Each of my blogs went through a minimum of two drafts before being posted.  I swear.  The sentence that you should be reading right now was erased three times and now omitted completely because I couldn't get it our correctly.

My honeymoon recaps...they are still coming.  I just have this particular way that I want to present them. Funny thing is, eventually I will give up and slap them on here.  Then I will go in and periodically update them, because they are presented the way I wanted or simply because my mood changed and I just want to change them.

I might really need to be medicated.  I promise that if everything that went through my head came out of my mouth, I would immediately be committed for observation.  If everything that came out of my mouth went down on paper, it would be one hell of a story.