Can't blog, arms tied to sides with invisible iron bands.
I blame the personal trainer. Sorry, personal dominatrix. My last session was at 6am on Wednesday (Did you know there is a six in the morning? I'd quite forgotten about it since the children learnt to turn the cartoon network on by themselves.)
I paid, yes paid, this woman to push me just past my limits. It was a clever ploy on her part. I felt great when I left , bouncing and full of the joys of the newly energised. Of course by the time I'd worked until eight Wednesday night and then got up again this morning I couldn't move my arms from my sides. Washing my hair hurt this morning. I've heard people say that following a gym session and thought, Pshaw, or something like that. But I have sunk that low, I am so unfit that the lateral raise jobbies or whatever have left my chest muscles so sore that my arms are effectively clamped to my sides. ( I looked like some sort of muppet as I hunched about at work, typing without moving my arms.)
Homer's stomach hurts, I thank my lucky stars that she hasn't started on my abs yet. I promise faithfully to myself to do some cardio before I see her again on Monday. I hope to bargain for a less tiring session by being able to say that I have done my cardio. I'll point at Homer meaningfully and say, "But he hasn't", thereby deflecting her attention to him and allowing me to skulk about at the back of our class of two. All's fair in love and avoiding punishment in an exercise class.
Things I have Said To My Husband Today
3 years ago