I am doing a new work-out program and it is horrible in every way. Currently, I cannot move my arms. Let's hope I don't have to sneeze.
Words like "muscle confusion" and "squat thrusts" and "sprint failure" are being thrown around like they don't mean anything.
Well they do mean something. They mean "a slow death of torturous pain."
Think I am being dramatic? Think again, sister.
I am considering putting in a movable chair that slides up the stairs in my apartment. I would have done it already but I do want to get married someday and nothing says "fabulous single girl" like a slow ride up my staircase.
In the meantime, however, I do promise to record my progress. It is a six week program and I am sure I will have loads to share with you. Already I have seen more guys that could be on Jersey Shore than I thought possible. Who knew there was such a large population of them in south Denver?
And I realized that I have muscles in my armpits. And they hurt.
Thankfully, all of this working out will totally justify me eating an entire pizza on my cheat day. Torture does have its perks.