I wish I liked working out. I just don't.
I like the thought of it, the results of it and Lululemon clothes, but I hate every second of the actual physical exertion.
And I'm more active lately than I've ever been in my whole life, so it's not like I'm not trying. For a while there, my friend and I were walking/jogging 3-4 miles on the beach 3 or 4 days a week and kayaking and stuff. Exercising at the beach was moderately more acceptable but not because I like the exercising, just because I really love the beach. But now it's too hot and I have the kids all the time.
So I've been doing Jillian Michaels Ripped in 30
. It's hard and she's as annoying as ever, but it's only 24 minutes or something, so as soon as I get to that "Fuck this!" point, I'm already halfway done. I'm currently on the 3rd day of week 3 and I'm starting to think I won't actually be ripped in 30. Which is a huge disappointment (and I think lawsuit-worthy). I'm at my goal weight and just want to get toned so I thought that Jillian may be telling the truth with this 30 day time frame, but my before pictures look surprisingly like my current self.
Mr. Ashley says my "shape is changing", but I think he's just a liar who's trying to encourage me so I don't quit. He can't fool me, I'll quit if I want to!
I'll give it 10 more days but I better be nothing less than ripped by then, she promised! I am stronger but screw being stronger, I want to look good.
I even quit Coke. And I love Coke.
(But I didn't quit wine. I kind of blame wine. I also blame the other moms in my city--it's an incredibly fit, good-looking bunch. They should just chill a little so we can lower the bar. Bitches.)