An Excuse of Couch-Size Proportions.

Today, I did not go to the gym.

Nope. I didn't do it. Actually, I didn't go to class either. (!!!)

BUT, you know what I DID do?

I moved a couch.

And you say, But Tess, it's just a couch! One couch! I move those all the time to vacuum under! What a frivolous excuse!

And I say, No! This was not a couch, it was the couch of all couches, a massive, gargantuan explosion of every couch that ever lived.
A couch nemesis (if you will) that not only resulted in almost THREE near death experiences upon getting it up the stairs, but ultimately resulted in me doing all of my strength training for the day, thank you very much.

It took three of us to pivot and shimmy, in a somewhat graceful couch dance that took almost two hours. (Not to mention one door-removal, two fragile shatter-ings, two raw hands, and one bruised face.)
Plech. (And if you didn't catch that, that's plech. As in, "plech, that sucks.")

Which brings me to this fact.
I am fat, yes. (Sorry, while true, that wasn't the fact).
The fact is this: I AM STRONG! AAAAHHH! (That was my best Hulk impression via keyboard).
Yes, carrying around SOOO much extra weight sucks to the highest measure, BUT my silver lining is that by carrying around what is essentially 100 pound weights on top of a normal body weight, I have created some serious superior upper-strength, and a couple of thighs that could give Lou Ferrigno a run for his money. (Totally kidding Lou, don't kill me.)

I think I'm actually still sweating... Yep, still sweating.

Tip of Today: you can easily fit intense bouts of working out into your day by simply re-arranging furniture. CLEARLY.

You Know You're on a Diet When...

... you think splurging is eating FOUR (yes, that's FOUR) brown rice cakes.

And then afterward, when at the gym, you begrudgingly count the seconds as each calorie goes by- subsequently regretting each of those four brown rice cakes.

Manageable Inner-Leg Blazes and the Fearsome Gym Beasts

Okay, so I don't like exercise.

I'm sorry, but there it is.

I wish I liked it, buuut... I don't.

I mean, I don't pine for a good workout. There are people out there, who do. They think, Yes! Sweat! Adrenaline! Gatorade!
Okay, so maybe they don't think that- I wouldn't know- as I am not One of Them. (One of THEM. I like referring to them as a whole other specie- "Those that Enjoy Exercise"- interesting creatures with active habits. You can find them swarming fluorescent lit, poorly ventilated gyms during odd hours, and huddling around water holes. Social predators with gleaming muscle and veins, usually clad in thigh-hugging spandex. Prey includes fatties, rollies, chubbies and other social ladder bottom dwellers.)

But seriously guys, the whole thing is just kind of a turn off.
At least while I do it.
Because I'll tell you what. Me, on the Eliptical machine for thirty minutes is neither graceful nor sightly.
I sweat so much that I think I can actually hear the beads hitting the floor. I can almost start a fire in between my legs with all the friction, and the horribly un-flattering sight of gravity and the affect it has on all of my weight going up, and then comin' back down... well, it's just not pretty.

But I do it!
Everyday, I get up at eight, bike to class, learn. Bike to gym, sweat. Bike home. Wheeze.

That's my routine.
And lucky for me (I know, I know and for the health of my body, blah blah blah) I'm sticking to it.

tip of today: listen to the people who talk about drinking water. As a natural skeptic, I question all authority and advice pertaining to my body, but seriously- after drinking 72 oz. of water everyday for about a week, my complexion is clear, and it has helped to melt the weight. As a disclaimer though, until your body adjusts, stay near toilets. Or high bushes. Your choice.