Skip to main content

What's Your Excuse?

I can't find my sneakers.

It's too hot out.

My clothes are all dirty.

Where's my gym bag?

I can't find my sports bra.

(grumble grumble grumble)

So what's your excuse for not working out? The top [lame] excuse has been mine the last few weeks. Since we moved into our house, I literally cannot find my sneakers. I thought they were in my gym bag, which I also couldn't find, but once my husband (hehe) found the bag, I discovered there were still no gym sneakers.


I've been living a blissful yet slightly fearful state for the last month-ish because I haven't weighed or measured myself since before the wedding. I also haven't worked out since before the wedding. You understand my fear now, right?

That's right, I resort to candy too.
But the time is nigh. Last night Hubbins and I went to a running store and we each got fitted for fancy new sneakers. The girls were both super helpful: they had us stand on this fancy little machine where they checked our arches, then had us walk on a treadmill to see how our gait is. Hubbins has incredibly flat feet, for anyone that was wondering, and I have a regular ole' arch. He seemed pretty excited though as he darted around the store in the bright blue kicks. He dashed between clothing racks, hopped up and down, breakdanced... Yep. This is all real life.


So we have fancy new shoes, I have no excuses, and yet I still find myself here with no gym bag. I honestly just forgot. I've gotten out of the habit of going to the gym, which is really sad considering how much I was going before. It's a crappy excuse, but they all are, aren't they? Tomorrow! I will be sweating tomorrow. Tonight I will pack my gym bag and throw it in front of our bedroom door so I will be forced to grab it on my way out.

Keep me accountable, will ya? :)

So. What's your excuse??

<3
A Redhead

Comments

  1. I haven't been to yoga in a week...because I felt like utter crap and I didn't think they would be ok with me laying in the room the whole 90 minutes...and last night I left work late, my errand took too long and by the time I got home I would have been 30 minutes late for class (this is highly frowned upon). I am going tonight! And Thursday and Friday. I feel like 3 times a week is a great and accomplishable goal! You can do it too! I beeeelieeeeve in you!!!!!!!!!

    ReplyDelete
  2. I'm tired.
    I'm old.
    I have Things To Do.
    My fat hurts.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I'm embarrassed by how much I just laughed at "My fat hurts". I'm STILL laughing.

      Delete
  3. I don't want to get sweat on my new carpet.

    ReplyDelete
  4. I'm too tired. "but working out gives you energy." but I'm too tired to get any energy.

    ReplyDelete
  5. I'm poised at work, calm and suave. No one needs to see me fail miserably at the gym, which is right out side my office and in the line of sight for all to see.

    ReplyDelete
  6. I don't have enough free time, and when I do, I need to work on sewing costumes for Halloween. Also? It's getting dark earlier so I don't really want to go run in the evenings. I am a big 'fraidy cat inside, but really only of irrational things which is why I don't watch scary movies. I am more afraid of dementors than being mugged. (That is SO irrational that I refuse to sign off with my real name. Right Dementors is my excuse. I'll take aching flab any day over dementors.) --Shag

    ReplyDelete
  7. ps: dance-syncing to the Bella's Finale scene counts as excercise, right?

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Shame Eating

I found the above image on the interwebs and it always makes me laugh. All.the.time. It's kinda true though, right? IF you've ever had any kind of food addiction then you know the sweet sweet embrace of "one more" handful of kettle corn (ahem), or "one more" piece of bread, or whatever.

I was joking with my co-worker that I might as well be shame eating out of the Costco-sized bag of Kettle corn on my counter in the dark, licking the sweet and salty remnants off my fingers. That I can't be trusted alone with it. That I grab a bigger-than-small bowl and PILE it up, lamenting the few rogue pieces that make it to the floor.

Another colleague overheard us and said she used to do that with angel food cake. She would sit it on the passenger side and just drive, picking at the fluffy confection. I know a girl who could knock out an entire family size container of Sara Lee pound cake.

So friends, those are a few confessions. Using the powers of anonymity that y…

Frustrations & Fertility

The Bearded Wonder and I got married on a sunny Saturday afternoon in September 2013. Barring a few minor hiccups, the day was pretty perfect. Per the (unfortunate) societal norms, people started asking questions like "So, next comes baby, right?" or "When are you guys going to start popping out kids?". 
Between me, you, and the Internet, I was a virgin when I got married so I was in ZERO rush to start having kids. I wanted to enjoy being married for awhile, hopefully travel, and just settle in to living with this person I'd never lived with before. 
It's funny to me now, looking back on those first few years. The Bearded Wonder had some job transitions which led to some tight finances. We got by (not without help), but I was in a constant state of fear that I'd get pregnant. We were just floating with the 2 of us, but adding a baby in the mix? Yikes. Definitely not the right time. I remember calling my best friend in a panic, "I'm craving hot…

He Likes Big Butts and He Cannot Lie!

Do I have any fellow big booty girls in the audience? Or I suppose big booty brothers? Maybe? Anywho. I've had a rather prodigious posterior for my entire life. I think part of it is that I've always been a fat kid, and part of it is probably genetics. Even when I lost weight in high school, it was still pretty hefty. In fact, I recall walking with a friend of mine and hearing 2 guys behind us talking. "Look at that fat a**", his friend said "where" and the other guy said "the one on the right".

I was, of course, the girl on the right.
It's a moment that's resonated within me for a long time. That happened in probably 2003 while I was a young 16 year old, and 10 years later it's still a moment that occasionally wraps me up in it's insecure and hateful arms.

It didn't help that a year or so later I was in a parking lot with friends, feeling cute in a spaghetti string tank top and jeans, and a complete stranger drove by and yell…