Note: I’ve been trying to write this post all evening. But, SOMEONE won’t go to bed (let’s just call this someone “MONKEY” for convenience’s sake!$%^$#@!?!). She’s still up. Torturing the cat beside me, as we speak. Needless to say I have low hopes for the success of this post. Cut me some slack today, Gorgeouses. Love….

At 2pm today, I piled the monkeys into the car and drove to the gym to brave the first group fitness class I’ve taken since before the Rascal was born! KICKBOXING!

I’ve been afraid to do kickboxing classes lately because my knockers are just so dang gargantuan (I have never, I repeat NEVER, used the word “knockers” before; does it offend…?), and because my personal trainer advised me to do the machines at a heartrate that supports fat burning. Well, guess what? That heartrate — i.e., the heartrate that’s so low that I can read a BOOK while exercising — simply ISN’T cutting it. I need HARD-CORE cardio to kick this preggers fat. I really do. It’s always worked for me in the past. Time to face that fact.

Screw the machines, I say, and bring on the sweat, the beet-red face and the HEART-THUMPING-so-hard-you-can-SEE-it.

Today, I screwed those machines. And, I KICKED, I PUNCHED, I JABBED, HOOKED, KNEED! I was awesome. Know how I know I was awesome? Because HOTT kickboxing instructor gave me the thumbs up from across the room…SEVERAL times.

Did I mention he was hott? Did I mention I’m screwing the machines and taking up kickboxing for good now? Did I mention he was hott? Did I mention I was so flustered by hott Romanian kickboxing instructor that I actually, erm…, gave him the, erm…, gave him, umm…, erg…, the thumbs up right back?

Umm. I don’t DO thumbs up, Gorgeouses. Especially with MY thumbs: square thumbs (aka “hammer” thumbs or, as my sister’s ex-boyfriend so graciously called them, “spoons”) that should not be called attention to UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCE.

Anyway, my uggers thumb wasn’t the only part of me that WORKED IT. Yeah, I totally kicked arse and took names. It felt amazing; and, it felt right. From now on, then, I’ll be doing kickboxing as often as I can — with hott Romanian instructor, and with every other woman in that gym who needs a little EXTRA motivation…. Did I mention his sparkly green eyes?


Anyone thirsty? I have a glass of milk calling your name!

When we got home from the gym, I was put in my place. The following conversation was had:

Monkey: You should go in da kitchen.
Me: Why?
Monkey: Dat’s [pause] where you belong!

Okay, WTF?!?


The Cheaty Siblings! OY!

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