Tuesday, March 30, 2010

The obituary will require some delicate phrasing.

A friend informed me over brunch the other day that if the bomb tech (BT) ever read this blog, I may be in a small amount of trouble. As in, I may come down with an acute case of being dead, what with his expert knowledge of firearms and explosives.

The BT is not going to harm me for several good reasons. First off, we'd likely have to be in the same room together for him to do so, and we all know that's not looking good.

Secondly, he doesn't read this blog. Should the worst happen and he stumble upon these postings by some sort of horrible, unspeakable accident...I've said worse. Really, I have. Comparatively speaking, he got off easily.

(Good LORD. That was possibly the worst unintentional pun ever. I am SO sorry.)

To clarify...I kind of like this guy, and his penis wasn't inappropriately sized. Compare my BT experience to one example I've described in this blog where I had to dig in his pants like I was looking for a quarter I dropped between the seats, and the BT looks like a porn star.

I'm now way off topic, but I wanted to make it clear that the BT isn't going to kill me no matter what, because somebody else is going to do that long before he does.

Possibly very soon.

Her name is Jillian Michaels, and she is evil.

She's also the "toughest trainer on TV," best known for yelling at really, really large people on The Biggest Loser as she pushes them to work out hard enough to cry, vomit and pass out.

I'm not sure why I thought purchasing her DVD titled, "30 Day Shred" would be a good idea, but as my four readers should know by now, good ideas are not exactly my calling card.

Obviously, this is not an advertisement for Jillian Michaels, as I'm sure she would pay good money to NOT be associated with me. Regardless, the woman is kicking my ass.

This DVD provides three levels of work-out routines that pudgy people like myself are supposed to work through daily, over the course of 30 days.

Daily.

I'm not sure I even go number two every day, so this DVD fitness adventure began by asking for a whole lot of commitment.

The first time I did Level One, I was out of breath by the time we finished the warm-up. When Jillian announced we were then ready to get started I was considerably alarmed. In my opinion, we'd started. We'd started plenty.

Pudgy people are supposed to stay at each level for approximately 10 days, and I've discovered a lot about myself and the world from being on Day Six of Level One.

The first discovery being, I really can't do push-ups. Even push-ups with my knees on the floor will eventually end with my forehead resting on the carpet when I just can't do anymore. This occurs at about push-up number 16, which is actually a significant improvement over my push-up capabilities from Day One when I maxed out at ten.

(Laying sweaty forehead to carpet in your living room is also an excellent way to gauge whether or not you should vacuum. In my case, the answer is always yes. Yes, I should. It's just not dignified to be exercising with what might once have been a frozen hash brown stuck above your right eyebrow.)

Next, I've noticed I may actually be a different species than the two women working out behind Jillian Michaels for the duration of Level One. I'm not smiling the entire time like they are.

I'm not smiling at all, mostly because I'm not having fun, and partially because lifting the corners of my mouth would take away energy that is best directed to completing one more push-up.

Unlike those two women, I don't glow prettily when I sweat. There is no sexy sheen to my legs and shoulders, but there is an icky wet spot under my pony-tail and a pool in my sports bra.

My legs do not form a perfect 90 degree angle while I'm laying on the carpet, attempting to do some ab-related exercise requiring my legs in the air and some other part of my torso to lift off the ground, that would ordinarily not come off the ground. Their legs do. My legs are more sausage-like, and therefore can't bend that way. Have you ever tried to bend a kielbasa sausage? Don't.

Despite the fact that Jillian Michaels may bring upon my untimely death because she is evil and her work-out companions are bionic fem-bots...this shit works. I'm getting stronger, and I'm doing it every day.

Should the BT ever come looking for me for any reason, he may find a totally different woman.

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