Alrighty. It's been a long, gluttonous summer. A diet of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups (mmm), and Diet Pepsi does not a flattering figure make. So it was off to exercise class again. It's the getting there that's the hard part. No, I don't have to scale large mountains, or cross large rivers. I don't even have to pull a handcart or walk, for that matter. I get to drive my comfy Vangina a total of 2 miles, to a nice air conditioned church cultural hall. But still, it's, um, harrrd.
But I made it.
And when we arrived, it seemed the door was locked. But there were kids in there! It took them a few minutes to realize there were no parents around. I guess the key-lady opened the door, the kids ran in, she reached back out to get her new baby, priorities!, and the door was closed. Oops. I saw it as a sign that we should go back to bed. Nobody else really did. Losers.
So we did a little jumping and kicking and stretching to a very cool mix of excellent 80's music. I love some of those songs, they bring back the best memories of sitting in my brothers room in the basement, it had carpeted walls!, and thinking I was da bomb because he was (is) so cool.
And then, on the way home (not really on the way, more like the total opposite way but whatever), I had to stop and get a $1 large Diet Coke. I mean, come on people, I can't just give it up cold turkey. Remember, I've tried that, and lasted approximately 2 hours. But here is proof that I can still stretch. Yes, that is my leg all the way up on the counter top. I guess the exercise thing isn't so bad. I just need the getting there part to be better.