***ankle update***

Look at how good that "kankle" of mine looks, still a little green but who cares right! I think I'm ready to start doing a little gym work again.

OK, truth be known it's been ready for a little over a week now but I hate working out! Let me be a little more specific, I hate, hate, hate working out! I hate it every ounce of my being, and we all know that's a lot of ounces! I hate getting out of bed to go to the gym. I hate getting dressed for the gym, I don't care how hard I try or how many different brands I try ALL workout shorts end up bunching up in the crotch area forcing me to stop every second or third step to remove them, oh so lady like right! That's why I keep myself shaved and short if you know what I mean, all that friction could cause a darn brush-fire (although I do know a couple of hot fire fighters so I could think of worse things to happen)! I know for some of you this is not a problem, I am referring to my skinny ass girlfriends, you all know who you are so I feel no need to call you out even though I sooooo want to. This really is a serious problem! I hate driving to the gym. I hate trying to find a parking spot because Lord knows I want one close to the door. Why in the world would I want to park out in the back 9 and walk all that way to the freaking place that is about to make my legs feel like over cooked spaghetti and my stomach feel like I just rode a roller coaster with my daughters for the third time in a row? Seriously, if I had my vote the gym would have valet parking...yes I said it, valet parking at the gym, you know I'm only verbalizing what ya'll were thinking. I hate setting up all of the equipment that is going to be used in my own torture, the least they can do is have it all ready for me! I hate always being late, because there were no front row parking spaces left. I hate having to work out in the front row, because I was late, allowing everyone a perfect view of me pulling that bunched up short out of my crotch. I hate the freaking smile on the instructors face and the pep in her voice as she "Pumps" the bar over her head with ease all the while my bar, with half the weight on it, goes up side ways because one arm is stronger than the other and my face resembles that of a 4 month old trying to get that first real pooh-pooh out, you know all red with a little bit of spit coming from either corner. I hate putting all of the torture equipment back, REALLY!?!?! How much is my membership at this place anyway? Can they not afford to pay the perky little rock hard instructor to put all this shit away...I'm freaking beat! I hate the drive home, my arms always feel like I never put the weights away and if a small child were to run in front of my car chasing a ball, well I would have to hit him. There is no way on God's green earth that my over cooked spaghetti of a leg is hitting the break fast enough to not hit him! I hate peeling of that sports bra. It's soaking wet and stuck to the girls and my arms are so tired pulling it over my head is near impossible. Since I'm being honest here there has been a time or two I have thought of showering with it on and drying it with the blow dryer, who would ever know right? The best part of my workout, oh yes the silver lining, is standing beneath that shower head letting the HOT water offer a little relief to my aching muscles, wrapping the towel around me and going to the pantry for that big ol' spoonful of come to momma lovin', the peanut butter and honey jars! mmmmmmmmmmmmmm.



Well now with all of that being said I think I wouldn't mind spraining my ankle again. Obviously this forced 4 week break has been very much enjoyed!