My Love/Hate With Jillian. I Need a Percocet. STAT!

Well... it's mid January now... and my lack of self discipline has already earned me a big, fat, 'F' for most of the changes I wanted to make, upon the arrival of this new and 'improved' (Used in the loosest form possible...) year. I'm still smoking. I'm still fat. I haven't won the lottery. Shit... I haven't even been able to eat Activia diligently enough to get regular. (It's the simple things...) It makes me laugh when I think about it, actually. Why do I even make an attempt at 'resolutions'? (Also used in the loosest form possible...) Aren't they, in all reality, just idle threats I makes to my own... self? "I am not gonna talk to you if you don't lose 20 pounds in 3 weeks, FATTY!?" or "If you don't quit smoking cold turkey... TODAY... your house will burn down in the night, and it will be your fault... because you left a cigarette burning, or something awful like that! You DIRTY (Insert various four letter words here)?" (Notice I ignore the fact that I'm surely going to leave my children Motherless if I continue? Ugh... hardest thing in my life. Period. So I won't focus on that for now.) or my favorite... "Celery, nuts and water are perfectly delicious replacements for pizza and wine! You IDIOT?" Bare in mind... these are actual conversations. Conversations between me... and me. What? Yeah, sounds kinda mental, right? Typically, by this point, I've already thrown in the proverbial towel. And I scoff (Mostly out of pure, self loathing, jealousy) at those eager morons, who are still taking up regulars' treadmills at the gym they just joined. The one that they will only be a member of for another month. And at the smokers that are wearing patches that make their hands shake, their ears ring, and bring them closer to a stroke/certain death, than any cigarette they have ever smoked. Who are they kidding? But not this year. Nope. I've been having all sorts of 'words' with me these days. This will be the year I change everything that bugs. I'm sure of it.

I started today, in fact. A girlfriend of mine told me all about a Jillian Michaels DVD. The 30 day shred. She made it sound so fab... I even battled Walmart to purchase it! (Target was fresh out... good sign?) It is a series of three 20 minute workouts. Twenty minutes can't be THAT bad! Right!? I've been doing workout videos for years! Pilates and, well... Pilates? Clearly it has worked wonders, so... :) I've always kind of hated on Jillian, though. There is no reason... but I just have. Maybe it could be her incessant yelling, in fat people's faces, that gets to me. Or the fact that she is NOT a Doctor... but is suddenly on the show "The Doctors"? Who knows. If this chick can shred my shit in 30 days, I can overlook some of that. Also, I like to tell myself that Jillian, if anything, has really awful eyebrows. Eyebrows that will make a great target for me to grind my teeth and mutter 'shit talk' about, under my breath, while I'm sweating and swearing and want to stab someone. (That'll show that skinny bitch!) :) So... why not try it? My 10 year old Daughter and I decide to watch it first, so we know what we are in for. (When I say 'we'... I mean... 'I'. She dances 10-12 hours every week, does gymnastics, and has a 6 pack. She'll be fine. Plus... jumping up and down repeatedly isn't nearly as painful when you only weigh 50 pounds, and don't have DD cup boobs. I'm scared.) We were about 7 minutes in, and I noticed that even the ripped bitches, who she has demonstrating these God forsaken moves, are dripping in sweat and panting a little. Was my girlfriend for real? She does this shit!? Is it easier than it looks!? Cuz... seriously... I was exhausted just watching it. Was *I breaking out in a sweat? And panting? Ish... I was just in the viewing phase! I guess I felt the need to see for myself. Nothing like jumping right in!

I put on my sports bra, closed the curtains... (just in case someone were to drive by, happen to look in here, sees me flailing around like a victim of sorts, and think I'm being attacked by an intruder. It could happen... and I don't need the cops here again. Like... ever again.) and gave it a good old Community College try. (Disclaimer: I wore a tank top as well... all children's eyes were spared during this process) It was pretty brutal. Just like I thought. Level one is a bitch. Yes... I said level one. I felt like one of those sad, pathetic, 'I used to be so hot' chicks, on the Biggest Loser... who cry a bunch about their hefty weight gains... and then secretly, and feverishly, search for the camera crew's leftover donuts,  when the camera is not on them. Quite appropriate, actually. :) I used to have a pretty decent bod too... And a fantastic, full length mirror that told me I looked long and lean... even on my shortest, squattest days :) (Oh, how I miss that mirror!!) And here I am now. Facing off with Jillian. Ew. :) I didn't lunge as low as what'shernuts, with the curly hair. She can Eff right off. I didn't do 'Man' push ups either... but I did it. And I didn't die! My son actually came and sat on the couch right next to me. His face was a tell-tale sign that things were jiggling in all the wrong places. He tried, with all of his might, not to laugh at me... to no avail. Why is it so much cuter when my daughter is doing all of this nonsense? I just look like a heffer on hot coals. :( So... after much laughter, sweat, teeth grinding, and bouncing... I actually felt pretty good about things! This should be a cinch by day 5 or 6!! I immediately slammed a bunch of water and smoked half of a cig. It didn't taste good. I sorta love Jillian!! All was well... until a half hour later, when I had to carry a laundry basket down the stairs...

My legs already feel like Jello, and I may have actually ripped my butt open. I'm not sure. My shoulders feel like they are in a vice grip, and my arms are shaking as I type this. I'm gonna be sore as HELL tomorrow... But, so help me God, I'm doing it again.  I may even start to like the burn? Ok... that's pushing it, and a total lie... but hopefully I will dig the results. I even thought about taking before and after pictures, and walking myself through the process by blogging about it. (Mostly because I still don't really know why I even have a blog... or what I should blog about. I'm all 'new' and stuff. :)) But I won't. That is boring and totally overdone. Not to mention... nobody wants to see the 'before'. Maybe I'll take a '30 days in' photo or something instead :) For now I'm just gonna groove on the fact that I'm being somewhat proactive, and my kids go back to school tomorrow, so I can sweat and bawl in peace. :) I'm gonna turn those Fs into As before I know it! (Or at least Cs!! Now... if only I could figure out how to do that with my boobs...) The laundry can wait... I'll get to it when I'm all svelte. :)