Tag Archives: boyfriend

The Rules

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This evening while I was doing my part to get us packed for our big move in 2 weeks I came across a cache of dusty self-help books on one of my bookshelves.

 

One book was “Sexy at Any Size” (a really good book actually), another was the Bridget-Jones inspired “Becoming a Goddess of Inner Poise“…still yet was the snarky “He’s Just Not That Into You“. DID NOT LIKE. THAT BOOK.

 

Then I stumbled across self-help GOLD.

 

My copy of “The Rules: Time-tested Secrets for Capturing the Heart of Mr. Right“.

 

Yeah, that’s right. Like many single women, I was handed this book by a well-meaning friend, and actually tried to live by some of the bat-shit crazy rules in this book until I realized trying to live my life by rules set forth on a paperback book was insane and made me look like a controlling social engineer from the depths of crazy-land.

 

It’s funny, it specifically talks in the book about how if you break the rules in this book, you will not find a successful relationship. I personally believe that if you don’t break a few rules in this book, you’ll walk around like you’ve got a stick up your ass. Following this list of arbitrary rules didn’t really work for me. It wasn’t until I broke a few of The Rules that my dating life actually got interesting, and went from the “wishing and reading the Rules” stage to the “living and laughing and leaving the Rules behind” stage.

 

Some rules I effed up on:

 

Broken Rule #1 – Be a “Creature Unlike Any Other”

Hmph. This rule was mostly about keeping a certain amount of mystery in your relationship. I guess I broke that one the first time I peed with the door open. He literally screamed. Now he tries to hand me bank slips to look at while I’m in there with my underpants around my ankles, having personal time and reading Adele’s article in an old Rolling Stone. I’m all like,”What is this?! What do I do with this?!” and He’s all like “I dunno.” Neither of us finds it strange that the interaction is happening while one of us is pantsless.

On 4th of July I pulled  a prank that involved telling him to lift my leg (pantsless of course) and then farting directly into his face. Again, he screamed. And gagged. And laughed.  Almost a week ago and I still cry with laughter about that, and so does he.

Speaking of pantsless… I guess introducing him to my “Pants Off Friday” celebrations probably blew up Rule #1… unless it actually supports #1. I’m pretty sure dancing around without my pants on Fridays makes me a “Creature Unlike Any Other”

 

 

Broken Rule #5 – Don’t Call Him and Rarely Return His Calls

I always returned his calls. I was always so excited to hear from him that I didn’t have the self-control to be coy and all not-calling-back right away.

 

 

Rule #6 – Always End Phone Calls First

Um… yeah, like the first 2 months he was ALWAYS the one that hung up first, usually because he fell asleep while I was talking excessively. See Broken Rule #5

 

 

Broken Rule #14 – No More Than Casual Kissing on the First Date

I guess now’s the time to tell the Story of the Cold.

The BFE and I met through online dating. When I finally bullied him into asking me out, we jokingly came up with a code: if he tried to kiss me, and I wasn’t feeling it, I would just say “I have a cold”.

Our first date was a movie… while we’re sitting there, he leans over and is all like “Hey, I don’t have a cold”… I laughed and kissed him. I haven’t stopped kissing him yet. 🙂

Our good-bye kiss after he walked me to my car lasted about 25 minutes. I don’t think I ever left so happy. I guess technically it wasn’t “casual kissing”. 🙂

 

 

Broken Rule #17 – Let Him Take the Lead

Are you kidding me? What is this, 1925? See Broken Rule #14… he kept beating around the bush so I finally got him to ask me out. I kinda let him believe it was his idea. So in theory he took the lead… right?

 

 

Broken Rule #22 – Don’t Live with a Man (or Leave Your Things in His Apartment)

Whatever. He moved in with me, so I didn’t actually move in with him. It was the best thing we ever did.

 

 

Broken Rule #31 – Don’t Discuss the Rules with Your Therapist

That smacks of someone desperate to hide their crazy. I’ve said it before, and I’ll said it again: “In the South we don’t hide our crazy. We sit it on the front porch and give it a cocktail”. My friends are my therapists, and the idea of having to hide some element of my nutjob personality from my friends is exhausting. I once tried to explain the rules to my friend Kev, and I could visually SEE part of his life force draining away due to the sheer tedium of all the rules.

 

 

I guess each person has to decide for themselves if The Rules is something they want to do. I just felt it was a bit antiquated for me and my lifestyle, along with somewhat crazy and most importantly, a set of rules specifically designed to hide the best parts of yourself from your partner.

I mean, yes, some of that stuff is common sense, and is designed for those girls that get so excited with each new prospect that they shoot straight for Stage 5 Clinger. I agree – you probably shouldn’t go all stalker-y on potential new date guy, but seriously? Why should I hide who I am? How could I NOT share Pants Off Friday with the dude that might end of being my Baby Daddy? If you can’t take me at my worst, you don’t deserve me at my best. And that means no Pants Off Friday for you!

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Toot!

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I accidentally “tooted” at work today, and I have to say, this one took me by surprise. One scale of 1-10 for potency, lingering ability and nasty factor, this one was an 8. Work toots should always be a 3 or below.

While I’m no stranger to passing gas at work, this one was pretty heinous. I had NO IDEA what I’ve eaten over the past few days to warrant something so awful welling up inside me, but I actually gagged.
I try not to do this kinda thing at work, because so many people walk by my desk, stop to say hello, etc. that I just can’t take the chance. Last time I did this, I sat there silently, slumped over slightly, praying that the funk would dissipate before anyone came by. Eventually, I sent out an email to my surrounding coworkers, stating simply, “Do not come by my desk for 5 minutes”. Of course they all knew at that point what I’d done, but I figured that was better then seeing the look of surprise, horror, nausea and disgust (in that order) on some unsuspecting co-worker’s face.

Sometimes, when it just has to happen in public, I’ll try to “crop dusting” tactic. For example, if we’re in Target, I walk away from BBE into a vacant aisle and rip one out, walking the away from it quickly. I stopped doing this after I was on the deodorant aisle one day and walked into someone’s “dust”. My mouth was open, man! I was utterly and unbelievable disgusting. Since then, I haven’t had the heart to place that fate on anyone else. So I bottle up my public farts as much as I can, which makes for bigger “eruptions” at home.

Last night I had a similar “eruption” to the one I had at work today, only I was laying in bed, face down, and the BBE, bless his heart, got a face full of the horror because the ceiling fan blew it right back on him. We were choking and crying and laughing all at once. The sheer shock that something so rotten could come out of a girl’s rear end startled him, I think. We talk about pooting and stuff like that all the time, but this was beyond the pale. Typically our conversations are relegated to the following:

Me: “What are you doing??”
BBE: (under the covers, in bed) “What?” (flaps blankets to augment the smell and share it with me)
Me: “Stop farting in bed! That’s nasty! The fumes get trapped under the covers!”
BBE: “Fine” (stays in bed, flips back covers, farts in open air)

In all fairness, our conversations are also typically:

Me: “Hey, so to finish my story…
BBE: (hears the all-too-familiar tinkle) “Ahh!! What are you doing?!?!
Me: “What everyone does! It’s natural! Didn’t you read the book?!?”
BBE: “You’re disgusting! Stop peeing with the door open! Dammit!!!” (runs in, slams the bathroom door shut, holding it shut until he hears the flush)
Me: “Whatevs. Backitup backitup backitup.”

It’s not a secret that girls pass gas too, I think guys on the whole just think we’re more dainty about it. Not I. I try to be more undercover because I know I’m rotten inside, but there’s nothing dainty about the unholiness that happens after too much dairy. I have one friend that will not poot in front of her boyfriend, to the point that she HOLDS IT UNTIL SHE GETS HOME. I have another friend that holds it for DAYS, until she’s alone in her own place. She literally won’t poop for 48 hours or more, because he’s hanging out with her all the time. I don’t have that kind of time, energy or modesty. If we’re at home, I’ll rip one out on the couch, and so will the BBE. I think part of it comes from living with guys for so much of my life, but I also happen to know that most girls as just as rotten as me, they just try to hide it from their respective partners as much as possible.

I take a different approach: what you see is what you get. So pretty early in our relationship I starting lettin’ ‘em go so the BBE knew what he was getting into. I figure fair’s fair, right?

So… back to my accident parting shot at work today… it was epic. I peeked around to see if anyone was nearby, that starting flapping the air around me with a notepad I had on my desk. Once I was pretty sure it was gone, I sprayed a little body spray in the air, just to give it that fresh smell again. New lesson for today: spraying perfume on top of funk does NOT cancel the funk out. I already knew this, but I thought I could get away with it. Wrong!! So now I’m getting whiffs of poot mingled with whiffs of… cucumber melon. Not cute OR dainty.

The Story That Won’t Die (or, Why You Should Never Say the Word “Ejaculate” at Work)

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Ejaculate.

Yep, I accidentally said that word at work two weeks ago.

It’s been a while since I’ve written a blog post. Hopefully this story will make up for it. Just try not to judge me too harshly for my stupidity.

 

It all started when I accidentally told my VP to shut up during our weekly department meeting.

I used it as slang, a way to express my surprise. She said something surprising to me, and without thinking I said “Shut up! Are you serious?”

 

Right after I said it, my face melted into a look of horror, as if I’d just accidentally eaten a child. The room was quiet (there were only 5 of us in the meeting). She made light of it, and was probably honestly not offended, but my face was burning with shame.

 

Shame which quickly turned into embarrassment when, after the meeting, she teased me by telling her assistant that I’d told her to shut up! She teased me on and off for the rest of the afternoon. I thought by the end of the day the story would die.

 

NOPE! It was revived the next day, which was Valentine’s Day. the BBE sweetly sent me flowers, and they were sitting on my desk all day. The Associate VP, who is the Queen of the Dirty Old Ladies Club, noticed the flowers and pounced on them and began to tease me, asking “so… what did you have to do to get those flowers??”

 

I am NOT a member of the Dirty Old Ladies Club (if only by the sheer lack of age!) but I work with enough lifelong members that I didn’t hesitate to answer ” I did what I had to do to get them!” This response set off a shit storm of cackling and good-natured ribbing amongst the DOL (Dirty Old Ladies)… which would have eventually abated had my VP not piped up with “She’s been sassy all week! Yesterday she told me to shut up!”

 

I tried to defend myself, explaining that, in our meeting yesterday, I was so surprised by something that I ejected the words “shut up!”

 

Well in my MIND I said “ejected”, what I really said was… EJACULATED.

 

Yep… EJACU-effing-LATED.

 

The caw-caws of the DOLs were so loud that my VP boss, the CFO of our company, came out of his office to see what was going on, just as one of my coworkers was repeating my statement… so he walked up just in time to hear – you guessed it – the word “ejaculated”. He simply shook his head and walked away.

 

At this point, I packed up my purse and went home (it was past my out time anyway). I was horrified. As I drove home, I curse the BBE’s thoughtfulness in sending me flowers, cursed whoever thought up the Valentine’s Day as a holiday and cursed myself for accidentally saying the wrong word. I prayed to the baby Jesus that they’d forget about this story and it would never come up again.

 

Ha.

 

It came up again several times over the next few days. At one point, someone sent me an email calling me “Penny”. Puzzled, I responded back, asking why I was being called Penny. “For penny-tration! Get it? Penetration?” har har har.

 

The final piece de resistance came when we had an after hours dine around event for work, and the CFO retold the tale… to the HR Director and Manager of our company.

 

I was so embarrassed that I nearly cried. I’m still waiting to be called into HR. I’m also pretty sure this will be brought up at this year’s Christmas party. You know, in 9 months.

 

Pray for me… and try not to ever use the word “eject” at work.

 

Sincerely,

 

Penny

10 Days – 10 people

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My 10-Day Challenge (to Myself)

So I was reading girlseekskiss‘s blog the other day, and came across what I thought was a super cool idea…

Over the next few weeks, I want to highlight 10 people, 9 secrets (yikes), 8 fears (double yikes!), 7 wants, 6 places, 5 books, 4 foods, 3 films, 2 songs and 1 picture of myself.

I thought this would be an interesting blogging exercise, a good writer’s exercise, to see what comes from this. It’ll be so organic, and I have NO idea what’s going to come out! So bear with me folks… here I go!  🙂

10 People

Wow, this is going to be hard.

10. The boy that affected my college decision.

When I was in high school, I got accepted to every college I applied to, including UGA and Georgia Southern. I’d originally only applied to GA Southern because one of my closest friends (and dude I had a ridiculous crush on) was applying there. He also applied to UGA.

When the acceptance letters came in, he got accepted to Georgia Southern and waitlisted for UGA. So I decided NOT to go to my #1 choice but follow him to GA Southern. WHO DOES THAT?!? Oh wait – ME.

Long story short, I hated GA Southern, we drifted apart as friends, and I transferred to Georgia State University to finish my degree. I never regretted that decision: I honestly think almost everything that has happened to me since (good & bad) has all stemmed from my move back to Atlanta. I can’t imagine what my life would have been like had I not followed that silly boy down to Statesboro, GA.

9. Samantha Brown

Alright, this sounds nuts but she has really helped me to develop my outlook on traveling to new places! She really dives into travel and immerses herself in the people, food and culture of a place. She’s honest and witty and doesn’t take it all too seriously. I totally wanna be her when I grow up!

8. The person that selected me to be laid off from my former job.

As stranger as it sounds, I’d like to say THANK YOU!! to whomever it was in HR or my department or whatever that, when my former company was having financial trouble and having to let people go, decided I was one of the ones that should be laid off.

I spent a long time feeling resentful of that situation, and wondering what I’d done wrong that resulted in me being picked. I cried. A lot. I hadn’t been without a job since I was 15. I felt like a failure.

Honestly? Working at that hotel really put the “cult” in “workplace culture”: We were a tight-knit family working for a common goal, and really felt that management cared about us. Maybe they really did – I’m not sure. What I do know is that I felt like I was leaving family behind, and being sent away. I was having withdrawal pains from this place that had been the center of my life since I moved to Florida. It was hard. What I had to face up to is that WORK is about BUSINESS. It’s not personal, it’s not how much they like you, or who is friends with who. The people that you care about, and who care abotu you, will still keep in touch no matter what. I learned to do a better job of “leaving work at work”. In the real world, as much as a company can create a culture that sucks you in, at the end of the day, when they let you go, it’s just business.

Two years later, I’m working for a company where I could not possibly be happier. I love the people I work with, but I also temper that with accepting that it’s still business at the end of the day.

7. Jessica the BFF

This chick is hilarious. Like, really, really hilarious. I oculd gush about how lucky I am to have a BFF that listens and cares, and laughs because we have the same sense of humor, but that’s not why she’s on the list.

Apart from being one of the most cracked-out crazy pants awesome people I know, Messy Jessy is also the smartest. I mean that. LITERALLY one of the smartest most driven people I’ve ever met in my life. Which in turns challenges me to bust my ass for the things I want. Can you ask for a better friend than that?

Ok, how about one that will move into your 2-bedroom apartment with you because the thrill of living alone wore off and now you’re too scared to go to sleep alone in the apartment at night? One that will keep you company so you can stop imagining escape routes out of your bedroom in the event intruders come in through the patio? ‘Cause that’s what she did. She sort of saved my sanity. 🙂

6. Delton the other BFF

Taught me a lot of about seeing your way through to the other side after it feels like your whole house has fallen down around you.

We went through some pretty shitty events together (including a roommate from hell that stole our identities and turned out to be a sociopath). We yelled and screamed at each other, and tried to break each other down but in the end propped each other up. I learned that no matter how much it sucks, things are always much better with a partner by your side.

I also learned never to fight with your significant other in front of other people – no one wants to see that! So Delton, I’m sure the BBE thanks you for that too 🙂

Delton also had the cojones to tell his parents that he liked boys… in the meantime, I live in another state and stil haven’t manned up and told me parents that the BBE is probably moving in starting January. I totally admire him for that kind of courage.

5. Winnie the Pooh

He’s a ditsy fat yellow bear… we’re not that much different… he also addicted to honey (sugar)… yet another similarity…

He’s also NOT a fan of wearing pants, a personal preference of mine which I believe we’ve previously covered in other blogs.

One thing Pooh has down pat though, is figuring out who is friends are, and appreciating them. Especially if they have honey in the house 🙂

Pooh keeps it real, yo.

4. Snitch and Flip

My sisters. When I meet other people that don’t get along with their family/ siblings, I am grateful for the relationship I have with Lil Middle Sis (Flip) and Littlest Sis (Snitch). We always have a good time together, ever though we will occasionally get on one another’s nerves. What family gathering would be complete without someone bossing the others around, someone geting pissed off, someone drinking wine like it’s water, and another one spiking the holiday apple cider with crown royal??

3. Sunshine

My stepdad IS my dad, and my dad rocks. Plain and simple. I started calling him Sunshine a few years back, it caught on and that’s that.

I’m probably not always the best kid to my dad. And he might not always agree with my decisions, but he’s dependable, and patient and listens and gives me honest feedback. He’s also possibly the 2nd most hilarious person I know.

2. Maaaaaaaaa

Come on, y’all knew number one would be my mom, right?

My mom and I bump heads. A lot.

Remember when you were a kid? And you were like “I will NEVER be like my parents! I will be my kid’s friend and let them eat cake for dinner and take them to DisneyWorld every weekend if they want and NEVER make them do homework! And if they don’t want to go to school or college or do homework, then they don’t have to.”

When I was in high school, I soooooooooooo wanted to be like my mom… I would steal dresses out of her closet when she wasn’t looking so I could wear them at school. I observed how she walked so I could have the same walk, and subconsciously, I still have a lot of the same mannerisms she does.

We didn’t have a super-close relationship, though. I used to wish we were like my friends and their moms. I often think that’s because, as my personality formed, it was so different from how she wanted me to be. When I was younger, it hurt to think that I wasn’t measuring up to her image and expectation. And her expectation was HIGH. She put her boot up my ass and made me work hard: bringing home Cs wasn’t an option. Being lazy or rude wasn’t an option either.

When I hit college I decided to do my best to NOT be like her, and spent a lot of effort into being who I wanted to be and went a bit overboard. I’m grateful to those years because I learned to just be me, and like myself. Eventually, when you really like who you are, like really really like who you are, other people will like you, too. And that’s what happened.

I am grateful for those “boot up the ass” years, too. I am lucky that I had parents that believed in me. I didn’t appreciate it at the time. Who ever really does?

I live in another state now, away from my parents. I miss my mom sometimes, and we’ve gotten closer through our phone conversations, and enjoy the time we do have together because we don’t take it for granted. One interesting thing: more and more lately, I’m noticing that we share a LOT of personality traits. Which I actually kinda like 🙂

1. The Atlanta Crew: Castey Wayne, Kev, and LauraEllen

Real friends that will pick you up at the airport (and drop you off later too). Real friends that you have seen the good, the best, the bad and the ugly… and they know all that about you too.

Real friends tell you the truth, and keep your head screwed on straight even when you don’t want to hear it.

Real friends don’t bat an eyelash when you have crazy batshit plans – they simple burst out laughing, try to discourage you, then eventually tag along because they’re your friend. Quite often, they also supply the booze.

Real friends that you can look in the eye across a room, and immediately start laughing because you both know you’re thinking the SAME THING… “why is that b!tch wearing spandex?!?”

So… those are my ten!

An Open Letter to the BBE

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Dear BBE (aka “Best Boyfriend Ever”),

 

Here’s my open letter to you; I have a few things I wanted to share with you that I just don’t have the guts to say out loud. Because I’m a wimp.

 

1. I am so glad that you are comfortable at my place! So glad in fact, that I want you to make yourself at home. Make yourself SO at home that, from now on you will have no more excuses for not putting the dishes away because you “don’t know where they go”.

2. Speaking of being comfortable: the next time that you use the bathroom and don’t replace the empty toilet roll, I am going to choke you out. Like, Vulcan nerve pinch death grip choke you out. I AM NOT KIDDING. And by the way: the windowsill next to the toilet is NOT an ideal place to leave your kindle!

3. Next time you leave random piles of receipts under pillows on my papasan chair I will set them on fire. That’s right, FIRE.

4. I  think it’s pretty rich that you tease me for being weird enough to enjoy the Twilight series and having a Taylor Lautner poster in my water closet when you’re super weird for not liking ketchup and for not eating fruit pies because you believe that fruit does not belong in desserts.

5. Do not fart in my general direction. Ever. Same thing goes for burping. There is no situation in life where that is funny.

 

 

In addition to these things, there are some others that I also want to share:

 

6. I really really love it when we’re cuddling and watching tv and you kiss my forehead and stroke my hair. I realize there’s a pretty likely chance that it looks like a hot mess or maybe a squirrel is making a home in there (hey, when I’m relaxing at home, I REALLY relax at home!) but it makes me feel pretty and girly and super special.

7. I am obnoxious. I am a dork. I do embarrassing things in public and in private (like accidentally flash my underwear to the patrons of the local Cracker Barrel). I promise that at least twice a week I will do something to horrify you in front of others and also when we’re alone. I deeply appreciate that you love me in spite of all those things and seem to find many of them entertaining.

8. As much as I tease you for being mushy, I wouldn’t have you any other way. The little gestures you do to show me you care are so darn sweet…if my reacts alternate between teasing you and tearing up like a wimp it’s because I don’t know how to react appropriately because I’m not used to a guy being so nice… just because. I like that you’re sweet and mushy and cannot understand for the life of me why you like being with me, but I really and truly DO NOT WANT YOU TO CHANGE!

9.  This is uber creepy but I like sniffing you because I love the way you smell. I tried buying the laundry detergent that you use, but it made the crotch of my underpants smell weird and I got itchy on the back of my neck. I think I’m allergic to the laundry detergent you use, but don’t stop using it. I love sniffing you 🙂

10. My face gets hot when people ask me how I feel about you because telling the world that I love you is deeply personal and scary and something I’ve never said about anyone else except my family, close friends, my dog Rex and my cat Milo.

 

And one last thing…

I love holding your hand. So don’t let go. 🙂

 

Sincerely,

 

The Sunburnt Peach

Trainer from Hell – oops, I mean Boyfriend

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Why is it that as soon as you share with people that you’re losing weight it’s like you’re opening yourself to everyone’s opinions about everything fitness related, from sports bras to fiber???

I think it’s a convuluted way of showing support. Granted, cornering me at the door when I walk back into the office to ask me what I had for lunch is one heck of a way to show support…

I’ve listened to advice about fiber, stretching, workout frequency, sleep, flavored water vs/ non-flavored water, and the merits of hot yoga vs. cold yoga. One of my friends even took away my brownie!!!!! I take it all in stride with good humor though because I know it comes from a good place.

Or at least I DID… until Boyfriend decided to work out with me this weekend.

It all started with an epic fail on the part of my trainer – she cancelled on me at the last minute Saturday morning, leaving me at loose ends. Boyfriend thoughtfully stepped in to help me, suggesting that I workout with him during his routine.

What I remember most is sweat. And crying. And whining. And yelling expletives at Boyfriend every 5 seconds. I honestly can’t repeat here the hateful things that I yelled, for fear that WordPress will like, DELETE my blog. Seriously. It was pretty bad.

After collapsing into a perspiring heap (Southern girls don’t sweat darling, they perspire) and recovering from the workout from hell, I snapped when he told me I’d have to wait to have breakfast until AFTER we swam laps in the pool. This plan to wait to eat put the Trifecta of Evil into serious danger (I turn into a raving psychopath when I’m hungry, hot and tired all at the same time. I’d previously warned him. If he didn’t bother to heed the care instructions when taking on the Sunburnt Peach package that’s not my problem).

All told I recovered quite nicely from the miserable Saturday workout. Then Sunday came around and he made me do it again.

He kept telling me that my trainer would be even harder on me than he was!

By the time we were done, not only was there perspiration, crying and swearing, I was even swearing at the trainer on the program we were using as well as Casey the Roomie who was just an innocent bystander. I flipped him the bird – twice.

When Monday rolled around I was in PAIN. It hurt to sit, stand, breathe or scurry to the bathroom and pee. I whimpered while walking to the kitchen to make my cheerios and grunted everytime I lowered myself onto a chair or my toilet. I toddled around the office all day like I’d have a severe anal probe at the airport. People laughed. hmph.

After a weekend of training with Sgt. Meanie-Pants Trainer from Hell, I was flat out frightened of what my workout with my actualy trainer would be like. By the time I arrived at the gym, I was almost shaking in my shoes. Visions of Drill seargents blowing whistles were stuck in my head donned my sports bra and tennis shoes.

Ironically, today was not too bad. I say that with my fingers crossed, knowing that I will be seeing trainer lady at least twice a week for the next 8 weeks. The workout was challenging yet well paced, and she did a great job of explaining the whys of what I was doing.

I’m still sore, but no longer fearful that my trainer will channel the drill seargent from hell. I walked like the reluctant cowboy all day, but still felt pleased with my progress.

I can now sit on the toilet without falling. 🙂