I, like a lot of other Americans, returned to the gym last night.
I hated being one of those that got back into routine just because it was January, but I left myself no other option. It was put off entirely long enough. I have made every excuse in the book. The holiday parties are over and its time.

Some of the folks in my class had been on hiatus for a mere few days. One lady, 2 weeks. Me? Oh, since May. The instructor shook my hand and introduced herself and welcomed me to the gym. That's cool, been a member since 2007.

After slipping out for the past 7 months and having a child you'd think I would have been smart enough to ease back into the routine. Maybe some elliptical or 45 minutes of walking on the treadmill. Nope, it was apparently go big or go home. Throw-up or stay on the couch. (I didn't actually get sick, thankfully. Could have gone either way around 8:01 pm).

Spin class owned my big ass. OWNED. IT.

During the really hard songs, I used to pray for my unborn child back in the spring. Last night I prayed I wouldn't die. Literally.

I made a pact with myself I would get my pre-baby body back as soon as I got the tot scheduled and sleeping until at least 6 am. And at 8 weeks she was breezing through from 8:30 pm until 5:00 am, so this didn't seem like it would take all that long. After Tour de America during the holidays that whole routine has gone to hell. I came to a fork in the road and figured I could be sleepy and fat or sleepy and skinny, so I hit the gym despite the lack of a good sleep routine.

So today, I'm sleepers and my ass feels like I rode an unicycle from Dallas to Seattle. Here's to being a skinny bitch in 2011. Who's with me?

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