Back in the Game

My half-hearted commitment to being a grown-up, a highly over-rate aspiration in my opinion, has kept me away from the blogosphere to attend to the affairs of my employment. I hate it when work interferes with my internet life. Such an annoyance!

I engaged in a tadbit of walking on Monday with not so grand results. Only two miles at a window-browsing pace had my left ankle and leg rebelling. Not to be vanquished by select members of my anatomy, I headed to 24 Hour Fitness yesterday for 30 minutes on the Eliptical, 1000 mm on the rowing machine, and a whopping 1 mile on the threadmill. It was a minimal workout at best but it was something and the something felt darn good! Before I headed out the gym door I mistakenly walked into the managers office and before I knew it I had signed up for 28 sessions with a personal trainer. To protect the anonymity of my soon to wonder if she's in the right profession physical trainer I will simply identify her from this point forward as D_wn. Choose your vowel wisely and the mystery shall be opened onto you.

So, let's review.
Anita-Personal Trainer
Anita-Personal Trainer
Oil -Water
Mystery-Reason
Open Flame-Explosives
Gay-Republican
Contrasting oddities of life.

Tomorrow morning is my first session with Dawn D_wn when we get into that whole weigh, measure, fold, mutilate, and spindle brewahah. Golly, I'm as excited as a preschooler the night before Disneyland . . . or is it a teenager the night before four impacted wisdom teeth are ripped out of their mouth without benefit of anesthetic? Six of one, half dozen of another. Either way, if you're the caring soul I've come to believe that you are, pray for D_wn as she confronts the task of gathering weight and measurement stats on Phatgirl. She goes where few people have gone before.

Amen.