Confession time: it's been almost a full year since I've attended the gym "regularly".
For all you normal people out there, "regularly" means as close to 3 times a week as possible. No personal trainer, no spin classes, no barbells. Just 30-45 minutes on the treadmill (depending on what Oprah had to say that day) plus some decent resistance training and, yes, ab work.
So how did I fall off the aforementioned treadmill?
We bought a cottage last spring, moved kids, wine opener and chips up there for the summer, and then I took a fall course that messed with my tennis schedule and here we are in the fat jeans.
So, in addition to various home organization projects, tax season and the resumption of my once-a-week tennis fix, I've decided to eat better (ok ... LESS), get more active and God help me, do it regularly. A week in Florida in a bathing suit convinced me this had to be made a top priority, pronto.
I've even found a skipping rope to bring up north to our off-the-grid paradise for when I can't run up and down our hill. (Laughing yet?)
This little doodle is what it looked like at my house this morning during the 25 seconds I managed to hold a plank pose before collapsing*.
Wish me a happy, low fat lunch!
*with the exeption of the Gisele-like legs and waistline, which I can assure you have been both Photoshopped and treated with extensive artistic license.