Wednesday, February 15, 2012

San Valentino Strikes Again
When I say I really suffered my whole life with loser boyfriends, invisible boyfriends, Kleenex and boxed wine on Valentine's day, I really and truly mean SUFFERED. All that makes having F thousands of times more sweet. Not only did he give me the royal treatment, but he taught all the men in his English class how to take good care of the ladies in their lives, Yup, F turned life coach for the night, urging these timid Romeos to come home with some flowers at least. Totally adorable.

I did an extra half hour of Tracy Anderson cardio on top of the two hour classes I taught and walking briskly back and forth to the gym because T made us chocolate chip covered Oreos for dessert. Did I just blow your mind? I'm talking about two cookies in one. It looks like one cookie got hungry and literally ate it's friend and coworker. Here is an illustration:

Oreos (and also Chips Ahoy) are my personal crack so my family kept a  close eye on me to make sure I didn't have a total relapse. As a child, I ate them a sleeve at a time. I have the delusional belief that the white filling on the inside is made up everything I ever wanted, but the second it melts away I get bereft and need another. They are my achilles heel of a fit and balanced lifestyle.

I also have received, for the very first time, three, count them, three thank you texts for my class. I did a leg series that is so difficult that it is guaranteed to make your ass heart shaped after just one night. It was my valentine to my students. I got a very detailed text from one of my LIFE gym ladies describing her after burn. It is my destiny and personal legacy that when people think of their behinds they also think of me.

Meanwhile, stay tuned for next Tuesday when the women in my LIFE class have decided that Fat Tuesday is going to be the day when they bring prosecco to the gym and we drink before class, dance like maniacs, and invite the super stud personal trainer guy to come so that the single girls can oogle him. I chickened out on inviting him because I am married and also mortified, but I got my supervisor to work on it just so that they would stop bugging me about it.  He said to me that he would do it, and asked if I knew just how young that guy was. I wanted to explain that people's good fortune with genetics does not impress me the way it once did now that I have figured out what lasting sizzle is made up of, but instead I just sighed. I love ITaly.

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