Just one of the many reasons I love this man; he brings me flowers when I’m sick.
I think one of the reasons I feel like I’m on this blog more than I am, is that I’m here daily updating “Dear Jillian.” It’s not much; somedays that’s all I’ve got.
I wish I could say the 30 day shred is going gloriously well. But, it’s not. I came to terms a while ago with the fact that I lose weight slowly. And that I’m piteously out of shape. But it’s come as a cold shock to discover that I’m not the graceful ballerina who pirouettes effortlessly in my head. Color me delusional. Â In fact, I’m kinda clumsy. It’s embarrassing. It’s “sad girl tries out forÂ So You Think You Can Dance” cringe-worthy embarrassing.
Good thing I work out alone in my living room. Although, I still don’t understand why my desk dancing at my computer doesn’t yield more results.
Anyhow, I feel like this part of my life is just an endless treadmill. You get up, you get down, and you try it again. And I can’t help but hear the Hives, “Doo Wacko! They say the definition of madness is doing the same thing and expecting a different result.” Â Exercise has to be the exception to the bon mot. Right?
It better be!
I wrote this piece last week right before I succumbed to this ridiculous head cold. I’ve been too out of it since then to even contemplate publishing it—my luck, I would have erased my entire blog due to my cold-medicine haze. To avoid such a catastrophe, I waited until today to post it.
I’m slowly coming around and Â I think I’ll be back in the groove of things in another day or so. Until then, I’ll be on the couch watching re-runs of “Everybody Loves Raymond” because I’ve run out of library books. Shh, don’t tell Jillian.