I am tired. I am sleepy. I am exhausted. Why? Because I have decided that the time has come to get over my baby arms and try and do something about it. So, I am taking classes at the gym. Do you know how hard it is to have the arms of an underdeveloped 4 year old girl? No, you don't because an underdeveloped 4 year old girl would not be reading this.
I am taking 3 or 4 classes a week and sometimes, I just want to stop mid-way through the class and pull out a Snickers or a Kit-Kat. When people would turn and look at me with judgment, I'd offer them a bite and when they refused, I'd just think "your loss" and continue to chew into the nougaty goodness.
With all that said, I have learned a couple of things from these classes; 1.) Crying in public can easily be disguised if you are also sweating profusely and 2.) I have hardly any coordination. I know, I know...a Caucasian person with a lack of coordination. Not possible. The instructor made us stand on this half-exercise ball thing and then lunge forward and mine slipped from underneath me and I did a half split, half what little dignity I had is gone, kind-of move. It was humbling when the instructor chimed in and said "Oh God, are you ok?!" Yes, yes I am.