You may or may not be aware that I work out a decent amount. My weight fluctuates within the same ~6 pound range all the time. I’m cool with that. I figure it’s just water. (Um, yeah, so just go ahead and keep it to yourself if it isn’t water and let me have a sunny parade, kthxbai!)
You also may or may not be aware that I am really, REALLY derp-y at times. So, yes, I work out in this constant 6 pound battle, but shit, I’m 44. That’s probably normal. But I also work out for stress relief and I just generally have more energy throughout the day if I work out in the morning. Much to my husband’s chagrin, I weigh myself daily. And here’s where the derp comes in. I basically, in the back of my mind, always think I’m sick. It’s kinda silly, but not entirely. Imagine the person running down the street screaming as everything is burning around her. Yeah, that’s me when I got on the scale this morning and had dropped two pounds from yesterday. OMG I AM DYING FOR REAL! See? Derp-y.
In other news, I’m STILL PACKING.
In other other news, earlier this week I decided to pick up a jump rope for the first time in forever. In my typical fashion, I was annoyed that I couldn’t pick up the rope and immediately do every cool thing ever. I have no cool things. But I’m still trying. I mean, the cardio is fabulous, first of all. I have the basic bounce down, no problem. Next step is the boxer skip. Without the rope? No problem. Add the rope and I’m like a pony on crack. All kindsa herky jerky and falling over myself. Pretty funny actually. That was Tuesday. This morning I still had the pony thing going on, but maybe the pony only smoked a little weed instead of going full out with the crack. I call that a win in only a couple days. I got a cheapie rope that’s super thin. Ive already given myself welts. Yay!
That’s probably enough for today.