Bootylicious

So, being that I'm a super mature, responsible old lady (in my mid to late 20s! gah!) now, I've been trying to hit the gym more and make being active a bigger part of my lifestyle. I am not a girl who loves to work out. Far from it. When I told my mother in law that I can't stand going to the gym, she said "Well, I saw on some show that you can combine some work out moves with cleaning your house! You can do lunges while you vacuum or do squats and stretches while you dust!"

Really? The two things I hate doing the most in the world? And you want me to do them at the same time (instead of doing my two favorite things- eating ice cream and watching Glee?) Sorry MIL, but that's the worst idea in the history of ever. Thanks though.

But, I do have a two year pre-paid gym membership (what was I smoking again when I thought that was something I'd totally make good use of?) so it would probably be a good idea to get my cute not-so-little buns on a treadmill.

So I went. And it sucked. But not as much as it could have. I have found that being prepared helps. I love drama and playing dress up (after-Thanksgiving-dinner fashion shows were a HUGE part of my and my cousins lives. Just don't ask when the last one we did was... it's probably more recent than you'll feel comfortable knowing about.)

Anyway, I got my iPod ready with music, grabbed my "I totally belong to this gym, I even have a towel with their logo on it" towel, filled my cute water bottle up and climbed on the dreaded elliptical. I'd be a lying liar if I said that the 45 minutes flew by... but having the right music really did help. I'm not a huge fan of Ke-money sign- ha, Beyonce or Lady Gaga during my regularly scheduled activities... but once I am on that machine, it's like I'm channeling them. I'm a fame monster! My body IS too bootylicious! And I totally wake up in the morning feeling like P.Diddy!

Oh, I would like to use this time to scold the girl who was on the machine next to me. Hey you, Smug Jerk In The Tiny Shorts! Yeah, I covered the screen of my machine with my towel, and I hope you didn't like it! Keep your eyes on your own screen sister! It's not a damn race. Yeah, so what you ran harder than the fat girl wearing 2 sports bras struggling to breathe while whispering Destiny's Child songs on the machine next to you.... but that's only because we weren't chasing the paleta man! Pavlov's dogs have nothing on this drooling chica when those bells toll!