I think I have it. By golly-I really think I have it!! The newest exercise rage...I am envisioning infomercials and all.
Yes-today I experienced the dreaded "Spanx" workout. Just trying to put them on burns over 1000 calories. It has to. And, if you are the faint of heart type, just stop reading right here. Just stop, because it does not get pretty. AT. ALL.
I am perpetually 10 minutes late. Always. And, I truly try to be on time. I really do. It is just not in me. 10 minutes late-it is my thing. So, over the weekend I am getting ready for the most lovely baby shower that was thrown for me and HK. I am running late. I am trying to get myself ready while running around like a chicken with my head cut off. See, HK is making an appearance at the conclusion of the shower. So, I am also barking out orders to poor hubby regarding HK's shoe selection and which ones match the dress I have laid out. Enter hubby-looking like his head is going to spin out of control with the words tights, white and pink crib shoes, and bloomers, rolling all around in it.
I am almost ready-just have to put the clothes on. I am one of those people who gets BURNING UP HOT while getting ready. The build up of hair dryers and flat irons just sends my body temp into the sweltering degree field. So, now I am barking orders to hubby to grab my dress that is hanging, take off the tags, grab my black pumps...and I am putting the first foot in the spanx. My heat, my fat, and my lotion that I just put on are completely fighting against the already unrelenting spandex fabric. Poor hubby just stops and stares. I can only imagine what he is thinking. Something like, "Huh, now I really understand what they mean by muffin top." But people, this is not a muffin top. This is every ounce of fat and skin I have being moved from my toes to my boobs. I am the human equivalent of an orange push up pop. Problem is, I am trying to gracefully put this contraption on and suck in at the same time so as to not completely scar the dear man for life. Not working. So, I have to suck it up-literally, and just ask for help.
So, I begin barking more commands, "Help me!! Help me!!!" He is aghast. He is horrified. I am flailing like a wet, sweaty fish. He grabs the waistband of the Spanx which have only made it to my mid thighs at this point and starts yanking up. I figure that the best way to help is to jump up and down and maybe between the two of us, I can get myself in the Spanx. I jumped, he pulled...we finally won the battle.
I was sweating even worse by the time it was over, but seriously-that was a workout. I could sell this. I might have to when my husband leaves me for a thin woman who has never heard of Spanx.
It's just me-and all of my idiosyncrasies. I work full time, I am married, and I love my dog. We just adopted a baby girl. I am completely contradictory, I am a girlie girl, and I am impatient. I like breakfast for dinner. I like apples and peanut butter. I like wine. I like entertaining. I like sleeping. I like labels and I can be a b-with an-itch when I want to be or am pushed. I want to give my baby every opportunity in the world, and I want to teach her values and the rewards of hard work. I want more children and am scared to death of the uncertainties of adoption even though I have already done it. I love my husband. I hate that I weigh the most I ever have in my whole life. I want my husband to make a zillion dollars a year, and I want him to put up his laundry and clothes when I ask. I want what most people want-and here is my story-day by day!