So here's the deal: My best friend
Sarah started her blog a few months ago and since then I've been toying with the idea of doing the same. Is anybody really going to read what I write? No. Will they find it funny? No. Do I care? Hell no. A few things I am:
20-something: twenty-five years, three months, four days to be exact.. this gets relevant later in this post.
Born and raised in Oklahoma: I always think I'm not a small-town girl until I leave for vacation. Then I find myself sitting on a toilet in the (FUCKING NUTS) Chicago airport just trying to will away the mass amount of people. But you know, that's a post for another day.
'Staff accountant' for a local CU: the technical term here is 'Sr Financial Services,' but for places that aren't ass-backwards like this one, I'd be considered a 'staff accountant.'
Full-time college student: really nothing interesting on this topic, except the weird ass people I encounter. Again, post for another day.
Dog mom: by that I mean, human mother to the greatest puppy princess that ever did live. 100lbs of pure sassiness. Stella, you'll hear that name a lot. You'll get sick of it. I won't care.
In a love-affair with Jack Daniels: seriously, when trying to find a profile picture for this little blog experiment I couldn't find one single picture of myself alone without Jack. At the New Year party? Cup o' Jack. On the golf course? Mini bottles of Jack and a 20oz Coke. In the pool? Cup o' Jack with a koozie around it. Sitting in Bricktown (OKC) at a bar with my best friend? Sipping on some Jack. That's the picture that won, for now.
The post title? C25K: Day 2. A few days ago I downloaded the (free, cause I'm cheap) Couch to 5K App. Are you familiar? It's for lazy asses like me who don't exercise and want to start. Let's go back to how old I am: twenty-five years, three months, four days. In that time, I have done so many workouts I only need my own two hands to count them. I don't work out, which isn't something to be proud of.. I know, I know. The fact remains: I've been able to be lazy all this time. I was a little worried about turning twenty-five, was my metabolism going to disappear? Am I going to turn into my mother overnight? Lord, help us. That is a legitimate fear. Sorry Ma, you know your genes are bad. Three months before I turned twenty-five: enter the big D. You know, like the old country song? Going through the big D and don't mean Dallas. So that stress will take some pounds off of ya! Twelve to be exact in my case. Feeling pretty good, not the way I intended to slim down but beggars can't be choosers sometimes and it meant I didn't have to start exercising yet. Late June, enter: VACATION. I went up to Michigan with my best friend Anne, it was gorgeous, serene, relaxing.. and I GAINED SEVEN POUNDS. There's a lot to tell about Michigan, and I'll get to that in a later post, but the point to be made for today's rambling is that I gained seven pounds in seven days. All those new shorts I picked up at the resale shop? Tight. Every apple pie bagel I consumed? Visible on my ass and stomach. In comes the exercise via the C25K App. The whole point of this post is the following thought I had while sweating my ass off all over the neighborhood this morning:
Are the women who are in public in their workout clothes with perfect makeup and hair, no sweat whatsoever, FUCKING ALIENS? I would be lucky that I didn't get mistaken for a homeless person if I went into public after exercising. Do they not sweat? Like, at all? I'll admit it, I'm a sweater (is that a word, apart from being a garment?). I'm always warm, especially if doing physical activity. But really? Are workout clothes the new in thing to wear? Do they wear them as pajamas and then just get up and head to the store? Maybe they are ALL coincidentally in Wal-Mart right before they go work out? Cause yes, leave those groceries in the car in the 100 degree weather while you work out? I'm confused by this. Or maybe I'm just jealous cause I sweat and look homeless while other women look like they just got their hair and makeup done for the purpose of exercising? Life's mysteries... Being in the bathing suit in the picture to the right was some damn good motivation for actually getting up and sweating the last two days. Good lordy, pasty white and pudgy. Pictured with two of my favorite Pollack's, Annie & Stephen.
Adios Bitchachos,
Easy A (but not in the slutty way like the movie)
You know how sometimes you get so far in your brain you actually take a step further down into your underground crazy garage? No? Just me? Alrighty. Here's the deal: I had an epic meltdown on Monday. Don't believe me? Ask Sarah. I couldn't shut up, I'd run through every single terrible scenario in my head, my stomach hurt and I really thought I was going to start crying. The subject of the matter isn't relevant at this point, what is are two things: having friends who understand your crazy and accepting what the Universe is throwing in your face. Am I saying I calmed down after the Universe dealt me a big fat 'shut the fuck up'? No way. Maybe this is me talking to the next time I have a meltdown. So to remedy my meltdown on Monday night, I binge watched Don't Trust the B---- in Apartment 23 on Netflix and nervously drank numerous bottles of water. Tuesday morning is when the Universe struck. If you're not keeping up with the Humans of New York blog already you should be. Go check it out. Now. Don't even finish reading this. So anyway, enter Tuesday morning post from HONY. It wasn't about FB, if you're wondering, but it was exactly what I needed to hear. Left to my own devices I had created an enormous problem out of something that didn't exist. So, Sarah and Universe: a point for each of ya for handling and putting to rest my crazy. 
So, I got myself into a little pickle today. Anne's step-son, Zac, requested a golf outing for his 15th birthday. Fun, right? It's going to be 97 here today in Oklahoma, and as the radio described, 'it's going to feel like 108.' So I'm literally going to sweat my ass off. All for a good cause, though. I can only hope it looks a little something like our golf day two months ago ----> Refer back to the 'love affair with Jack D' intro. Boom. Here's to hoping that my B, Anne, straps herself into the cart again.. this time we'll make her ride that way ;-)