School started for me this week, on Wednesday mind you, and I’m already exhausted (it’s Friday). All I can do when I come home is collapse onto the couch and hope my children will leave me and my Cheese Puffs alone.
I’ve become the stick of butter sitting on my kitchen counter – soft and melty and slightly salty whenever someone wants dinner. What gives? A measly three days with teenagers shouldn’t wear me out like this, even if two of those days were spent in exceptionally high heels. I’d like to blame it on flu or mono or another insidious kid-born illness, but no, my friends, I’m simply out of shape.
And I suppose it makes sense. I did cut back a bit on exercising this summer. And by “cut back” I mean “all but eliminated.” I convinced myself that walking the dog around the block was a solid cardio workout and that switching to un-iced Pop Tarts basically burned calories at the same rate as squats. I knew I’d be traveling, I had no upcoming races where beating my husband would be a priority, and I am the queen of excuses (it’s too hot, I’ll go tomorrow, knee fat is trending). I’ve spent the last two months eating, lounging and bingeing on an inordinate amount of television. Am I really surprised that a few days at work has me leaving the aforementioned couch only to head to bed?
So, a pledge. Starting next Monday, a little jogging, some bendy yoga, perhaps a visit to a sweaty weight room. Fitness is now on the menu (along with my Cheese Puffs, of course)!
Peace out.
