Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle… I work out. Or not.

RebeccaUncategorized0 Comments

Yes!  The time has FINALLY arrived!  When we got the scheduled date for the battalion farewell ball, the phones started ringing.

This is one of my favorite military functions. Where else do I get to see my husband all dressed up in those blues?  The man is sexy.  What?  He is.  😉

Want to see why we love farewell balls?  Go check out our last one HERE.

So then it was decided, the Foxy girls needed a ballgown shopping trip, with a margarita pit-stop.  It’s good to have girlfriends.

 
  

So after we avoid the teenagers prom dress shopping… No, seriously, they came out of the wood work carrying dresses that had been attacked with a bedazzler… we all start trying on ballgowns.

What’s not to love?  It’s like getting to go to Prom all over again, except you’re married to your best friend, and you have way better taste now than you did at 18.

Well, then I start trying on dresses and it’s like…

That’s when I realized, the ten pounds I’d lost while Jason was at JRTC has snuck back in and attacked.  Crap.  I’d like to blame Jason and his absolute addiction to fast food.  Honestly, while he was gone, we ordered pizza for movie night, and that was it…  But I can’t blame Jason, because yes, he brought home the donuts, and the cookies, and basically I’m all:

And I’m realizing: 

So, The Mad Painter laces me into this fuchsia confection, and it’s divine, and fits like a non-gross and totally classy glove.  But still, there’s a wee bit pouring from the top, and I realize, I need to shape it up in the next month.  Because, yes, this dress is awesome and my husband called me gorgeous, but really….

And thank the good Lord we put that dress on first, because putting on the next two dresses feels like: 

Oh, and did I mention I told my best friend in Colorado that I’d run the Disney Princess half Marathon with her when Jason gets home from deployment???

Yeah.  You see, I figured that having a goal like that would force my butt onto the treadmill, but I have a slight problem with this whole idea because generally,

You think I’m kidding???

Yeah.  Um…  No.
So anyway, I have to work out a wee bit and get this under control, because I’m about to develop a serious case of writers-ass.  You know… where we sit on our butts all day and write.  This is attractive on paper, not so much in the ballgown. 😉

So go work out, right?  I have two issues with this.  One, is that I’m always my last priority.  If I have an extra hour, it goes to kids, laundry, housework, writing, kids… you get the picture.  I have a serious scheduling issues.  Since I write so late at night, getting me out of bed to work out in the morning is kind of like…

You get the picture.  My second problem???

Yup.  
Now a few other Foxy girls are… well, foxy.  Seriously.  They all work out together, and I’m kind of at home like: 

Why don’t I want to go work out with these awesomely fun ladies?

Because they’re all:

                      And

                And

And when I’m running it’s more like:

Which leads to THIS:

And THIS, because I can never find a fantastic, lovable sports bra:

And I kind of just feel like saying:

This whole process of finding time, and getting grimy makes me want to say:

Except I know this ball is coming.  Quick.  And even though I loathe the treadmill, I know in a month Jason’s going to be singing “I’ve had the time of my life” to me in some random location as usual and I want to: 

Oh, and Foxy Ladies… You know who you are.  Watch for low-lying aircraft because it’s supposed to look like THIS:  

NOT like this:  

Let’s not have a repeat of the karaoke incident of 2012.

Okay, I guess I’ll go find that damn sports bra and a treadmill.

Ball time is coming.  😉

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