Workouts, Whining and Wings

I have changed the nick name for Beth. It is no longer Rocking Body Beth, It is Beth the Death as in that skinny little thing is going to be the death of me. After Tuesdays work out I was feeling quite sore. By quite sore I mean that every time I walked down a flight of stairs I seriously contemplated just tucking, rolling and praying for a safe landing. I hovered over the toilet seat like a germ-a-phoebe- not afraid of catching venereal diseases but afraid that I would not be able to get back up.


Wednesday, instead of doing a nice stretching routine or a brisk walk, I did a twenty minute yoga DVD concentrating on hips, thighs and buns. My logic behind this clearly asinine idea was that I was going to Wing night, as I do every Wednesday and I wanted to not feel guilty about the 6 wings and three(maybe four) glasses of wine that accompanied them. Bad idea. I have now decided to skip the toilet all together.

Yesterday, Beth the Death was back at my door. And she took no pity on me when I whined of sore nether regions. Minutes into the work out I was actually feeling better. I was sweating it out and getting a good stretch. The work out itself actually goes by very quickly and Beth knows just the right things to say to me such as “black bikini”, “this is great for your butt” and “almost done.” Another great thing about working out so hard is that it forces me to drink water. When I’m not exercising I often skip water all together. I take that back, I put ice in my white wine so I get a bit of water but not much. I notice that when I am drinking water the weight falls off even faster. Now if I only I can find a way to make water taste like fermented grapes and give me a buzz, life would be grand!

When the work out was done, I was sweaty, shaky and spent, but it was a great feeling. Beth’s workouts really work for me. They are different every time which is great because I have severe ADD. Every few minutes we are doing something else- which makes every set doable. And just when I think I can’t do it any longer I close my eyes and picture Jessica Simpson on stage in mom jeans. That helps…

Wish me luck over the weekend. I wonder if Sexercise counts as one of my work outs???