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Hop Bitch

It’s been awhile, as my daughter keeps reminding me, since I blogged. The holidays are, as always and for everyone, a time of utter chaos. Busy at home, busy at work, barely any time for anything, let alone my incessant ramblings. But now thankfully the holidays have passed and it’s time for New Year’s resolutions. As usual, losing weight/getting fit are on the list and part of that journey includes journaling. I got the blog and a need to journal so you, my lonely loyal and only reader, get to suffer the indignities of weight loss right along with me.

Aren’t you glad you bugged me to write Case?

I think exercise brings out the mean in me. I’m on the crossramp (cross between a stepper & an elliptical; I like it) and I’m sweating my ass off (hopefully). In walks this woman, who’d I’d be willing to bet has like less than 5% body fat, she’s wearing a cute little workout outfit and heading for the treadmill. I’m watching from across the room, rather irritated by her for simply being in the gym at the same time as I, making me feel even bigger & clumsier than I am. She climbs ON the treadmill and proceeds to commence stretching. I watch as she grabs her right foot with her right hand pulling said foot up toward right shoulder blade. She then bends forward at the waist, continuing to pull on foot until she has literally turned her body into a perfectly symmetrical T.

I had to fight the urge to run over and hit the quickstart button on her treadmill and watch as the skinny bitch hopped one footed for dear life.


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