Only 120 Days Until Swimsuit Season

I’m two weeks into my new workout routine and I’m feeling it. Everything hurts. Last night I did power yoga and now all my toes hurt. I didn’t even think that was possible. Of course I also didn’t know that toes are used for balance either so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that they hurt. My neck hurts too. I suppose I knew that I had muscles in my neck, but I’d never thought about them before today when tilting my head became painful. I know that I have no right to complain, after all I am doing this to myself but I just didn’t think I was this out of shape.


I was doing power lunges, sweat running down my face, my legs as shaky as Jack Sparrow’s and my daughter is standing right next to me giggling as she mimics my moves. She finishes the lunges then does a summersault across my rug and starts hopping around on one leg with a big smile on her face. “This is fun, Mom, let’s do this some more.” I can’t believe it. I used to be a perky child, spry and energetic when jumping and skipping was fun. Now I think jumping rope is an aerobic workout and I’ll only do it if I know exactly how many calories it will burn off my backside.

The problem with exercise is that it saps all the fun out of eating. When you’re not exercising regularly, you never think about the fact that the bag of Cheetos you just polished off while watching Glee is thirty-six servings and contains enough calories to light up a small town on New Years Eve. You also don’t think about the fact that you haven’t had a glass of water in two days or that junk food isn’t even represented on the food pyramid. Life is bliss. Then spring comes and you remember that you will have to be in a swimsuit in less than 120 days and the party’s over.

Did you know that a serving size of cookies is one? I had no idea. It should be two or three since no one can eat a single cookie, but it’s not. I bet you didn’t know that there are as many calories in a glass of orange juice as there is in a can of soda or that just because it says “all natural” on the box doesn’t mean that it’s all natural. Dieting is a pain. You have to count nuts and measure cereal. You also have to think about food all the time when the last thing you should be obsessing about is food. Maybe that’s why I’m working out instead. It seems easier—at least until I have to do another freaking wall squat.