I missed my spinning class.

I woke up a half hour before I set the alarm and was all proud of myself for starting the day early. I got up, fed the dog and went back to bed to hang out with Michael until it was time to go.

An hour later I woke up to Michael shaking me. “Babe, your class!” Uh…yeah. I missed it. It’s totally Michael’s fault because he’s just so damn cozy.

I punished myself by going to the gym anyway and killing myself on the elliptical. And when I kill myself at the gym it is not a pretty picture. We’re talking tomato-red face, lots of sweat and frizzy hair. HOT. I also signed up for another spinning class that I swear I won’t sleep through.

Tonight I have my first kickboxing class, followed by a tennis lesson. Me thinks I might be crazy. I wouldn’t ordinarily follow an hour of kickboxing with an hour of tennis, but the lessons happen to fall on the same night as the class so for a month, I have no choice. When I finally get home at 8 p.m. I’m going to be a frizzy, sweaty tomato who can barely lift her arms.

But! Being a sweaty tomato is slowly starting to pay off. Because this tomato weighs one pound less that she did last week. Yeah, it’s only one pound. But if you count the weight I lost before Vegas we’re at six pounds and that’s like an entire basket of tomatoes less than I started with.

Go. Me.

On a side note, you know you’ve got a good man when you’re walking around the house in a schlumpy sweatshirt and slippers and he stops what he’s doing to say you look hot.

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