I have always been extremely jealous of people who (gasp) have time to write, blog, or even think. Ever since my son was born, I get wiped out by either taking care of him, or working, or even doing all the not-so-fun chores that must be done. So after dinner, I veg out on the couch with my husband, watching a silly television show, instead of writing down what’s really going through my head. Um…Grit Girl? It’s a form of free therapy! Get off your duff & write down what’s on your mind! So I’m going to try…again…

The last 9 months have been incredibly eventful, watching this little helpless infant grow into an independent toddler, whose favorite mode of transport is his own two feet going at an all out run.  He’s beautiful, and sweet, and loving, and frustrating, and causes me great sadness and anger at times, and just amazes me with his complete perfection (which is made perfect by his imperfections). The rest of my life has not been as eventful, or moving in the right direction. I have been living in a state of inertia. So I sit on the couch, eat, watch TV (or read), and get more & more unhealthy by the day. My husband and I have discussed having another baby, but a trip to the obstetrician ended with a statement that I’m not healthy enough to have another baby right now.  So I’m under orders to eat better, lose weight, & get my blood sugar under control (oh yeah…I was diagnosed with pre-diabetes too). I went to The Hardcore Gym in Athens, GA (if you follow UFC – Forrest Griffin trained there, along with a couple of others), & I desperately want to take part in one of their programs. However, the price tag is rather steep, so my husband isn’t quite ready to fork over the better part of an entire paycheck to pay for 8 months at a gym. It’s an MMA gym, and I dearly love watching Muay Thai fights, so I know it’s something that I could enjoy…but I cannot be so selfish with our household income. So I made a deal with my husband. I’m gonna get a new sports bra, strap on my running shoes (a new pair, if I stick to it, is not out of the question), and try to run like the Tarahumara (but really slowly). With my health, and the possibility of another baby, riding on my performance, I know I need to buckle down & get moving.  However, if I’m having trouble sticking to this regime at the end of a month, I may re-visit The Hardcore Gym subject again. With that much money being spent, and classes being SCHEDULED, I think it would drive me to actually show up & work my shiny behind off.

So that’s me. Cloth diapers on the baby, coconut oil being used for everything from mouthwash to scrubbing my face, a hope that I won’t hurt myself by running in my beloved Skora’s (zero drop running shoes that last FOREVER, and are utterly fantastic, but an old foot injury may keep them everyday walking around shoes), and a love for bloody steaks and the violence of thai boxing and rugby. Now you know why I can’t decide if I want to kick some ass, or bake some cookies. Hmmm…it looks like I may be almost out of cookies….




3 responses to “Um…Whoops?

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