Bikini, Tankini, or Twinkini?
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Sooooo, summer's here. Are you bikini ready?
Ha! That was SUCH a rhetorical question. I haven't worn a bikini since I was about five. After three kids, I will never be bikini ready no matter how hard I worked out.
But, in a desperate attempt to even be tankini-ready, I've started a new workout program this week. My sweet friend, Corrie, is majoring in Exercise Science in college and she's offered up her services to some of her mom's friends.
Why anyone would want to begin their career on a group of over-40-something moms who have no chance in you-know-where of ever becoming bikini ready is beyond me. I mean, she would have a lot more success with a group of her peers who just basically want to get a little toned and ready for the beach.
I guess Corrie likes a challenge. Whatever.
So we started out by walking around the indoor track a couple of times, just to loosen up a bit, while we told "scar stories." At first I thought, "Oh no, what emotional scar can I even begin to talk about without crying?" I sure didn't sign up for that! But I was glad to hear that she meant physical scars. It was horrifying enough to confess to my new friends that I have a one-and-a-half-inch surgery scar coming out of my belly-button, but I'm sure the group would rather hear about that than my deep-seated attachment to Twinkies.
Thank God she didn't make us state our goals for the session. When Corrie called the other night to talk through why I wanted to work out with a trainer I think I told her that I'd like to work off enough calories to be able to eat a Twinkie every day. Or maybe I said something about my flabby arms. I don't know.
Later this week I have to get in a "bod pod" which will measure my percentage of body fat. You stand in a room in a swim suit and air blows all over your body to determine how much flab you have on you. Fun, huh?
All I can say about that is . . . nothing. I'm too appalled to even think about standing in a room in my swim suit with air blowing all over me. To measure how much fat I have on me.
I could just save them a lot of time and effort and just tell them . . . it's a lot.
I think the bod pod thing is happening on Wednesday. I'm definitely going to need a whole box of Twinkies when that's over.
Ha! That was SUCH a rhetorical question. I haven't worn a bikini since I was about five. After three kids, I will never be bikini ready no matter how hard I worked out.
But, in a desperate attempt to even be tankini-ready, I've started a new workout program this week. My sweet friend, Corrie, is majoring in Exercise Science in college and she's offered up her services to some of her mom's friends.
Why anyone would want to begin their career on a group of over-40-something moms who have no chance in you-know-where of ever becoming bikini ready is beyond me. I mean, she would have a lot more success with a group of her peers who just basically want to get a little toned and ready for the beach.
I guess Corrie likes a challenge. Whatever.
So we started out by walking around the indoor track a couple of times, just to loosen up a bit, while we told "scar stories." At first I thought, "Oh no, what emotional scar can I even begin to talk about without crying?" I sure didn't sign up for that! But I was glad to hear that she meant physical scars. It was horrifying enough to confess to my new friends that I have a one-and-a-half-inch surgery scar coming out of my belly-button, but I'm sure the group would rather hear about that than my deep-seated attachment to Twinkies.
Thank God she didn't make us state our goals for the session. When Corrie called the other night to talk through why I wanted to work out with a trainer I think I told her that I'd like to work off enough calories to be able to eat a Twinkie every day. Or maybe I said something about my flabby arms. I don't know.
Later this week I have to get in a "bod pod" which will measure my percentage of body fat. You stand in a room in a swim suit and air blows all over your body to determine how much flab you have on you. Fun, huh?
All I can say about that is . . . nothing. I'm too appalled to even think about standing in a room in my swim suit with air blowing all over me. To measure how much fat I have on me.
I could just save them a lot of time and effort and just tell them . . . it's a lot.
I think the bod pod thing is happening on Wednesday. I'm definitely going to need a whole box of Twinkies when that's over.
