Or buns.  Or glutius maximus.  Or, my personal favorite, the rump-a-saurus.

Sidenote:  I add “-saurus’ to the end of any body part name.  It’s some weird quirk carried over from, well, when I was even quirkier I guess.  Drives Tony nuts when I ask him to move his leg-a-saurus.  We have yet to figure out why my brain wants to add the weird ending, but maybe I’m just fond of dinosaurs.

So, anyway, you know how I like to tell you guys about when I start up an exercise regimen?  Like, you might recall my time spent “running” last summer, which ended up not lasting long because…Surprise!  I hate running! (And you’re bona-fide freaks if you like it, I don’t even care if I offend you when I say that…yeah I’m looking at you extended family…)

Anyway – I have a new addiction.  And it’s called “exercise class.”

Think I’m lame?  It’s cool because I totally think I’m lame, too.

Here’s how this went down, though.

Back in the beginning of April there was a girl named Katie who could be found standing on her scale one lovely morning (ok, actually, probably snowy morning, but…details, pfft…).  A look of frustration crosses her face as she realizes the scale must be broken.  Because surely she was not 6 pounds heavier than what the doctor’s office scale said she was…4 months prior. 

But, alas, Katie realized the scale was right.  And the bag of chips that saw her through many commercials of American Idol had to go.  Or at least, be cut back on.

Here’s where I go back to first-person narrative, because this 3rd person stuff is getting obnoxious.  Carrying on…

After coming to realize the couch had a permanent indention where my butt was used to sitting, I finally took a little action.  I decided to keep a food journal.

Let me make something clear right off the bat.  I did not start a diet.  I’m a skinny girl.  I don’t need to lose weight, nor am I trying to lose weight.  I just need to…tone up a bit.  I used to spend summers being active:  hackey sacking, swimming, skipping around town.  Then adulthood hit and the amount of time spent sitting at a deskjob could probably be scientifically proven to have a direct correlation to the amount of cellulite a person can put on in a year. 

The food journal was mainly so I could get a clear picture of what, and even more specifically, how I was eating.  That communal candy jar at work painted quite the vivid picture for me.  I’m a snacker, through and through.

I also wanted to start keeping track of how much water I was consuming.  I had a pretty good inkling that I was not getting enough water throughout the day.  Do you know that it’s recommended people drink half their body weight in ounces a day?  Do you know how hard that is?  That’s almost 2 Nalgene bottles full for me. 

And do you know what?  This food journal thing is working.  I’ve started to really keep track of what a true serving of something is.  There might have been a few tears shed over how small servings actually are, but…

I’m also drinking so much more water.  My body is less swollen, my skin feels more hydrated, and…well, I have to pee a whole lot more, but I hear that passes eventually as your body gets used to having more water. 

Sure, there are some days I cheat.  I also don’t deny myself a craving.  But I do tend to check myself before reaching for the eight Snickers bar at work, because, damnit, I’d have to write that in the food journal if I did.

Along with being more conscious of my food intake is my newly ambitious desire to exercise.  I’ve done Pilates for a long time now on my own and swear by it’s awesome effect on my abs and butt.  But I’ve always sort of chickened out when it came to joining a class.  A coworker of mine joined the Y not long ago and has been gung-ho about trying out all these crazy classes with me.  Pilates was pretty hilarious, but it was nice to have a friend laughing along with me as we tried to come to a sitting position with both legs spread.

I’ve also done kickboxing and we’re planning to do zumba next week.  Coupled with doing the Shred at home, I found the scale has been much friendlier these days. 

It’s been a good month for me, is basically what it boils down to.  Bikini season doesn’t look quite so scary and I’m finding I feel so much better than when icecream was my main food group.  And, shhh, don’t tell, but it’s even got me cooking a bit more, as I’m testing out healthy recipes I find online.  I don’t want anyone getting the idea the kitchen and I are patching up old bygones, though.  We still agree to hold a reasonable degree of animosity paired with strong indifference towards each other.  No worries.

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