I realized today that I have exactly six months until my 20-year high school reunion. Six months to get my little butt in gear (or should I say six months to get my little butt back…) I needed a little motivation to get started again, and I’m hoping this will be the ticket.
Of course, I have to start slow, since my back is still a little jacked up. I am going to try some walking tomorrow, which will tell me a lot – as in do I have to totally heal first, or will walking help me to heal.
Back when I was on the operating table having Maggie cut from my belly, the doctor said “You have fabulous abs. You must really work out a lot.” She was actually looking at my abs through the hole she had cut; I trusted her judgement. (She was also trying to distract me from a not-crying baby, so maybe she was just head-faking me.) Let it be known, I was not working out much at all.
The other day I had quite the shock when my chiropractor told me my back problems were a result of weak abs. He said I was doing all the “work” with my back instead of my abs. If this is the case, I am a firm believer that two c-sections had a little something to do with the downfall of my abs. But, I am left with weak abs and a desire to change. Call it getting ready for the reunion, call it getting ready for 40 (still 2 1/2 years away), call it getting a clue. Whatever you want to call it, I think I am ready to get started.
Now if I can just locate my shuffle. (That’s a little music player, for those of you who thought I meant something akin to the Superbowl shuffle.)
On another note, I actually started the great purge on Saturday. I came home and emptied my junk drawer. It’s a little drawer, but it was packed with junk. And by junk, I mean, now that it is clean, it is practically empty. Some things were moved to their rightful homes (like the pliers), other things made it to the trash (broken buttons, an old roll of undeveloped film that may or may not have contained anything, little pieces of things that I will probably be looking for in a week), and a few things remain (all the pads of paper that I can never find when I need a pad of paper.)
The hardest thing to toss? My EPT from when I found out I was pregnant with Nicholas. I realize that a stick that I actually peed on didn’t need to be in the kitchen, and finally chucked it. It hurt. I’m a saver. But I am letting go, one EPT at a time. I think at the bottom of every post I am going to do a quick purge tally and exercise tally. You will see how full of crap I am my house really is…