I'm terrified. But I'm determined. It's 3.2 miles. 5 kilometers. It's nothing. It's an hour-ish out of my day. I. Can. Do. This.
|Any excuse to make this face in neon 80's garb.|
Now, if you're a dude or I work with you, you should probably stop reading here. Or if I know you in real life, or have ever met you, or may meet you in the future. Basically I'm going to confess something and assume no one's going to read it.
I wore Spanx on my yog.
Oh yes. I did. It happened.
1) I looked adorable all smoothed out and Kardashian-esque* in my workout clothes. Which we all know is what the gym is really about: lookin' good.
2) It was just more comfortable. Yes, I now know I'm beautiful. Yes, I love myself. Blah blah blah. Not the point. The point is that pretty or not, home girl jiggles. I'm like Santa with a bowl full of jelly, minus the beard. I'm like Fat Albert, but a chick and without a world-renowned laugh (at least I hope not...). I'm like Melissa McCarthy. Yeah- I'm like Melissa McCarthy. (Oh to dream...)
Either way, it's no different than wearing compression shorts/capris. It kept everything in place and wasn't uncomfortable to run like it would be sans-spandex. The bowl full of jelly stayed stationery, and I wasn't concerned and self-conscious about how I looked as I ran. Yeah, I know I shouldn't care what others think, but bottom line is running/yogging is a new and scary territory for me, and if it means yogging in the dark while wearing Spanx, then darnit I'm going to do it [for the time being].
So that's it. I came, I saw, I yogged.
*Note: I cannot possibly care less about who the Kardashians are or what they do, buuuut baby (me) got back.