I've had a good week & a not so good week so far this week.
MONDAY. Good day I hit the gym & burnt 584 calories doing the totally bonkers cardio set. It involved not only running/jogging/walking but running/jogging/walking UP HILL. It ended up running/jogging/walking/dryretching/wheezing. I couldn't manage the whole thing.
By the end I looked like a cat that had been put through the washer!
TUESDAY: Toning Day. I kinda like toning day & doing the weights. I'd rather do that than cardio.
The young buff caucasion Jersey Shore lads with their Southern Cross tatoos Ed Hardy singlets & bulging pecks eyed me with curiousity as I entered their 'domain'. I think they were quite amused by my steely look of determination as I busted out the reps lifting a massive 15kg. The killer though was the Step-Ups. This exercise is supposed to give me Buns Of Steel! You get one of those steps that they use in step classes (a class I only ever did ONCE. I fell off the step & spent the whole class looking like the most unco freak in the cosmos. The shame & humilation was terrible). Then you do 15 step ups per leg while holding 2kg weights... then you do 12 step ups holding 4kg weights... then you do 10 holding 6kgs and finally you do 15 with the 2kg again. I mean seriously how difficult and hard can that be. I walk up & down the steps at work about 50 times a day to go to the loo (thank you 1.5lites of water a day).
Nup. The simple act of stepping up onto a slightly raised platform had the sweat pouring into my eyes streaking my Mabelline Great Lash!
By the end my arse cheeks were screaming very unladylike language at me.
Then... the football club next door decided to torture me just a bit more on the way out by cooking what smelt like someone was holding the world record for the biggest amount of bacon being cooked on a barbie. The smell was devine and so so cruel.
I was like Homer Simpson..... Bacon....droooool.
YESTERDAY (WEDNESDAY) Spin class day.
I just could not be arsed.
I was so tired & all I wanted to do was go home to my big hulking furry faced husband.
It's such a bummer being completely in wuv with your husband. All I can think about is getting home from the gym to his big face and smile. I would seriously be doing SO much better on this 12wbt if my husband was off down at the local TAB with the punters then hitting the pub with his bogan mates drinkin' schooners of the Very Best talking about carbies and Britt Ekland's tits.
But OH NO.. not my man.
He would rather be at home waiting patiently, watching re-runs of Mash and then greeting me at the door with a big hug & spewing forth praise onto me about how good I am doing.
NOTE: I have not discussed my weigh-in this week. My weight has stayed the same. Stoopid kilos.