Yesterday, I assessed the state of the Clothing and determined, once again, that the state of the Clothing is tight. And not tight, like I'm being all ebonic and urban and what-not. Like I'm Randy Jackson in the Dawg Pound.
No, the painful truth is that the Clothing is a bit snug. The tragedy of this is, this was the "fat" clothing, purchased for the winter months when I needed to hibernate and bake and not leave the house. Hear me: if the "fat" clothing is tight, it's an ugly day.
In addition to that, we're doing some budget cuts round Radiantville, and the nearly unused YMCA membership was in serious jeopardy. The combination of these factors sent me out at the crack of dawn this morning (9:45) for an hour of blood, sweat and tears. I made it about 30 minutes. My wuss factor has intensified greatly during my sabbatical. Dangit.
My goal is to go 3 mornings a week, and work out for approximately 1 hour each time. I will then become svelte, tan and hott without modifying my diet, which will have sweets added back in this weekend after a somewhat half-hearted 40 day fast.
You might recognize this goal. I make it a couple of times a year, and I don't have high hopes for my follow-through. But hey! I made it 30 minutes today! Wahoo!