Monday, May 09, 2005

So, Cosmo says your fat. Well, I ain't down with that...

You know your fat, when your dad tells you you've packed too much junk in your trunk. He didn't actually phrase it like that. He was even tactfull about it. Still, in my head, alarms were screaming. Is this "family intervention" in its infancy? I have to admit, never in my life, did I think my life would turn out like that of other women I've read about in magazines. Crap...I have a rumpus that needs an overhaul! Limit food intake. Oh, that'll be easy since I love to eat. Especially if someone else is cooking. Then comes the best part-exercise. There is nothing I like better than the monotonous revolutions of the recumbant (stationary) bike for 45 minutes straight. It gets me so charged up, I must fulfill the urge to lift free weights specifically designed for this purpose. (This isn't Rec and Ed water aerobics- NO gallon milk jugs filled with water needed). This is day one- the realization. Results, if any, to be posted in (extended) future...Bring on season 3 of the Gilmore Girls! I must stay oblivious to the ever growing butt.

C.V.

1 comment:

Ron said...

and didn't your incredibly handsome friend remark that projecting video on your butt "would at least be widescreen?"

There's some kinda unresolved Electra complex in talkin' about your dad's comments on your ass! Whew! It's when he gives you two red bandanas to put in your pockets, that's when you worry...

Won't the exercise bike BUILD UP the butt? Granted with muscle, but a butt's a butt.