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Thoughts and Observations on doing the 30 Day Shred.

Day One: If I die in the next 30 days, please tell the Authorities, “Jillian Michaels did it”.

Day Two: Dear Jillian, my fat hurts. Thank you for that.

Day Three: Dear Jillian, I’m irrational—but you scare me. I’m pretty sure if I look directly into your eyes I’m going to turn to stone. That would make you Medusa and me crazy.

Day Four: Dear Jillian, Your lips are moving but I can’t hear a word you’re saying!  (Oh the joys of a mute button and an ipod. “I started nothing, I wish I didn’t!“)

Day Five: Dear Jillian, F*&% jumping jacks.

Day Six: Dear Jillian,  Why didn’t you warn me that I could bounce right out of my jog bra? My walls were embarrassed for me.

Day Seven: Dear Jillian, Black is not my color. I want on the blue team.

Day Eight: Dear Jillian, I’ve been brainstorming some ways to make your exercise  video more marketable.  I think you should have a pudgy, out-of-shape, forty-something in the background huffing and puffing and occasionally swearing at you behind your back. Realism sells. Just look at that show, “The Biggest Loser.”  No, I’m not volunteering. I can swear at you to your face in my front room. Just sayin’.

Day Nine: Dear Jillian, I’ve changed my mind. I think I’d rather look at Jason Statham.

Day Ten: Dear Jillian, I got up early today to do your stoopid video so I could sneak off to Portland. I’m going to eat a cheeseburger and think of you.

Day Eleven: Walter Tango Foxtrot (I just moved up to level Two. It’s not pretty.) what did I ever do to deserve  you? Oh, right, that cheeseburger yesterday.

Day Twelve: Dear Jillian, talk to the hand. Dear Knees, please don’t give up, blow out, or cave in before day 30. If you do, the bad woman wins.

Day Thirteen:  Somehow, it’s easier to get through a work-out with a full gospel choir singing back-up.

Day Fourteen: Dear Jillian, I think I’d pay  big money to see you face-plant into a huge box of chocolate. Yum, yum.

Day Fifteen: Dear Jillian, Half way today. That’s all I’ve got. What do you mean I need to write more? Keep going? I’m not working hard enough at this? What’s that? I. Can’t. Hear. You.

Day Sixteen: Dear Jillian, You know how they say you can do anything for 30 days? Well, they lied.

Day Seventeen: Dear Jillian, Why do you keep repeating yourself? And how come you never change your clothes?

This diatribe, er, faithful chronicle has been interrupted by a nasty head-cold. The author is busy extricating the nasty rhino-virus that has taken up residency in her upper respiratory track. This broadcast will continue upon the eradication  of said virus and when her daily consumption of kleenex no longer equals the death of a small forest. Please stay tuned. The snarkiness will resume.

Day Eighteen: Dear Jillian, So! I missed a whole week due to a nasty cold and you didn’t even miss me!  You could have sent flowers, you know. (And note to all you keeping track: I’m going to keep at this until I’ve done 30 work-outs. It seemed better than starting all over.)

Day Nineteen: This is me waving a white flag. Between the virus, which I’ve still not completely kicked, and a knee injury (yep, it finally gave out!) I’m calling it quits to doing this work-out every day. I’ve decided to scale back to 4 times a week while I let my body heal.

I’ve decided to put these observations in a post and take down the page. And I’ll have an update on my “weight-loss” progress in a few days.

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