I joined a gym recently because it’s been warming up around here and I can’t get up the motivation to go walking outside if I know I’m going to be miserable in the heat and humidity.

As part of the membership, gyms always give you one free personal training session. I’ve never had a “real” personal training session before. When I lived in Seattle I joined 24 hour fitness and my “free hour” of personal training took 20 minutes. The guy took a bunch of measurements, pinched my stomach with that big plastic tweezer thingie, told me I needed to lose 20 pounds, and informed me that unless I signed up for a Personal Training Package, there wasn’t anything else he could do for me.

At that point, I weighed less than I do now. I could have done well to lose up to 10 pounds, but 20 pounds would have put me in the unhealthy range of body fat percentage. I wasn’t aiming to pull a Mary Kate Olsen.

Today was a totally different story. My personal trainer rocked. And tomorrow my abs are going to be killing me. And I didn’t even have to do any floor crunches.

I hate crunches.

Hate them.

As evidenced by my current state, I would rather have flabby abs than do crunches.

But I learned today that I could strengthen my abs AND avoid crunches!

So now I totally want a personal trainer, but all I could think about while he was going over the “package” options with me was “I would have to sell like 20 blog templates to pay for that.”

So it’s not in my future for the time being. But a girl can dream.

PS…I’m sorry I’ve been slack on responding to your comments. I usually try to respond personally to each and every comment because I really appreciate the fact that you guys take your time to read and interact with me through this website. But lately I’ve been sort of sucking at the internet in general. Trying to get my butt back in gear (figuratively…though my literal butt is getting some work too).

Well, 18 months post-baby, I have finally reached a very exciting milestone:

PRE-PREGNANCY JEANS, BABY!

According to my scale this morning, I have lost a total of 10 pounds and today I am wearing a pair of jeans I have not fit into since early pregnancy.

All those pairs of “big” jeans in my closet can officially KISS MY SMOKIN HOT ASS.

BOOYEAH, WHO’S YOUR DADDY [insert ridiculously uncoordinated Happy Dancy here].

Ok, they’re a little tighter than I like my jeans to be, but the point is that they zipped up all the way and I don’t have a fat roll spilling over the waistband.

* * * * * [Insert Change of Subject] *  *  *  *  *

Do any of you make phone calls using Skype? I enjoy it as a messenger service but don’t have the technology to use it for phone calls. I was just thinking that their rates are WAY more reasonable than our landline, which we rarely use anyway, so if the quality is good I was thinking about using their service for our home phone. Any comments/suggestions/warnings?

Despite my good intentions, I may have to change the look around here sooner than expected. I am, without a doubt, the world’s worst dieter. Reasons for this are twofold:

Reason #1:
Though I may profess otherwise, my actions tend to speak of a mentality along the lines of “If you screw up, go all the way.” It’s a good thing I lost my virginity to my husband or you might find me on a street corner somewhere today. Case in point: Today I fudged (how’s that for a bad diet pun) and ate TWO MEALS instead of my allowed “1 sensible meal (400-600 calories) per day” ration. Because frankly, I am SO TIRED of chocolate “shakes” and think they have no business being called “meal replacements.” And my second meal was PIZZA.

So, naturally, in my state of guilt afterward, I sent my husband to CVS for Peanut Butter M&M’s. See? I’m surprised I didn’t make a DQ Blizzard run as well. I can totally feel my lovehandles coming back though.

Reason #2:
I have an unfounded phobia of hunger. I don’t know where it came from, it’s not as though I’ve ever been deprived of food. And yet, at the end of my “1 sensible meal (400-600 calories) per day” I have this mini-panic attack where I start thinking That was it. That was all the food I get for the next TWENTY FOUR HOURS!

Cue Feeding Frenzy Freak-Out, where I think I have to eat all the food within a 5 mile radius because it will be TWENTY FOUR HOURS UNTIL MY NEXT DECENT MEAL, despite the fact that:

1. This is not a starvation diet…I get “shakes” and meal replacements and (albeit not-so-appetizing) nutrients galore
2. 24 hours doesn’t exactly count as a life-threatening fast

I don’t know where my hunger phobia came from, but I know I’ve always had it. I think it was the sole reason I avoided anorexia in high school. I was discussing it with J the other day and he couldn’t figure it out. See, he actually had times growing up where there was literally NO FOOD, where they would eat things like “ketchup soup” for dinner because there were no other options. And he doesn’t have this problem.

I, on the other hand, who have never been deprived of food, vividly recall ordering 12″ Subway sandwiches through middle and part of high school - not because I actually wanted to eat that much but out of fear that if I only ordered a 6″ I would reach the end of the meal and still be hungry. And then it would be too late.

Now I never think about ordering more than 6″ but I had to do a lot of mental training to get to that point.

“That’s why we get along so well,” says J. “You’d be satisfied with 6″ but when it’s a few inches bigger you’re really happy.”

Today is our weekly Cleanse Day, more commonly referred to as Liquid Fast Day of Doom. Being unable to eat real food for an entire day does not bode well for my mood.

Neither does the fact that the cat has recently developed a propensity for peeing and pooping anywhere EXCEPT the litter box.  We’ve already said goodbye to one cat because of this problem.  Unfortunately, Little Button is rather attached to this one, and J and I are as well.

The dog has been chewing up Little Button’s toys.  Again.

I’m having a hard time remembering why we thought pets were such a good idea.

J put all of Button’s blankets in the wash today with a large red blanket that has never been washed before.  So now her white blankets are hot pink, and her green blankets are brown.

But at least my kid is cute.

I was informed today that the technical term for it is “irritability,” but the fact is, I’ve learned first hand over the past several days that one of the common side effects of flushing toxins out of my body is a raging case of that PMS I’ve never suffered with.

I think J is about ready to head for the hills.