Thigh Icing…Want Some?

I think I have finally went over the edge.

And I didn’t just slip. I took a running leap and flung my white, cellulite puckered thighs, wrinkly tummy, perky boobed body over the edge. And yes…my boobs are still perky-ish after breastfeeding two spawns, so stop it. Just stop it! Pick yourself up off the floor and brush off the dog hair and crumbs you have collected down there. And STOP LAUGHING!

Yes, I flung my body.

Unfortunately my belly button ring got caught on a fucking branch and I am just dangling there waiting for the turkey vultures to start pecking at my eyes and asshole. Yes, they go for the easiest meal first. Wait…what??!?! A belly button ring at 42? Fuck you. It’s cute. Take my word for it.

He's just waiting to pluck my eyeball out

Yes. I am getting to the point. Sheesh, it’s like you want to kick me off that branch and watch my lifeless, asshole-less, blind body roll down the cliff to the bottom! You people are sick!

People talk about kids having peer pressure but let me tell you…adult peer pressure sucks. At least as a kid, you are pressured into things like drinking or smoking pot. Not shit like signing up for a fucking half marathon. The healthy, good for your body shit. Not the unhealthy, good for fun shit.

I signed up for a half marathon.


Didn’t someone remind me that I don’t run? No, they fucking encouraged me to do it! Some friends I have. These are the ones who do 5K things all the time. They couldn’t just encourage me to just do a short one…nooooooooooo! I am surprised they didn’t talk  me into the full marathon.

Don’t get me wrong. I love my friends and am all amazed that they run like they do. They are inspiring. Sometimes way to fucking inspiring. If they can do it, why can’t I? I am not being snarky and bitchy when I say this, they are both overweight and can run marathons…

Why can’t I do it? Because I DON’T FUCKING RUN!

Well, I guess I do now. Damn friends.

You can walk the course but I don’t want to be the lame-ass and finish last. So, I am running.

Not much. Not fast. Not pretty.

And where the hell is that fucking “runner’s high” they keep talking about? But that is a topic for another day…

I am doing it and I am running. I am gaining endurance and can actually run farther each time. So it is working. I know I won’t be able to run the whole thing. If I can run/walk it, I will be happy. I can walk 7 miles in a little less than 2 hours. I figure I can do 13 miles in about 3 hours and 20 minutes. If I run some, I can do it in under 3 hours and that is my goal.

Goals are good to have right?

Rambo, he is so supportive.

“Well, if you decide to not do it, it’s only 60 bucks. Not out a lot.”

What. The. FUCK!

Yes, he said that. Way to go boy-o. I love you too. Way to support your crazy ass wife. Whatever happened to lifting me me up and encouragement?

“Awesome honey! You are going to do it. You will look amazing by the end of summer. Okay, MORE amazing than you do now.”

That’s what he should have said.

Instead he got 1 week of headaches.

I could only last a week. A girl has needs.

Gotta go…my thighs need ice. And it’s not because I didn’t have a headache last night.

Fucking friends.

Forever Sassy!




Couch Potato to 5k?

I have friends who love me. They love me so much that they are working me into believing that I can actually start running.

I am 42 years old and have never liked to run. Even as a kid. I tried to stay as far away from running if I could.

So why the change?

I keep hearing how good it is for stress. And I get a full helping of stress on my plate every day. And my treadmill is calling me.

We just redid my office and my treadmill is not hidden by boxes or hiding under a thick veil of dust. It cries out to be used. It looks like a little orphan child sitting in the corner. It’s as if its been placed there for being naughty.

In a way it has been. It taunts me every day. I can hear the voice. I imagine it to sound like Matthew McConaughey. That southern Texan drawl makes me swoon.

“Hey darlin’, come on over. You don’t know what you are missing. ”

Drool inducing

Just the sound of his voice can make me forget all about my hubby and makes me want to start running. Maybe if I imagine those rippling abs with his hand motioning in a come hither way, it will get me on the track.  Alas, I will have to keep it in my imagination. I don’t think hubby would appreciate if I plastered a half-naked poster of Matt on my wall as inspiration.

After all, shouldn’t my husband be my inspiration?

So starting tomorrow, I start on my journey to fit, forty-something and total awesomeness. I have my C25k app downloaded, the plan printed, and my shoes ready for lacing.

Who knows, maybe I may join my friends in Vegas for the half marathon in December. Can you hear my laughter from there? Yeah, thought so.

For tonight, I will enjoy my bowl of vanilla ice cream with fresh strawberries.