I have to confess. I am not the most active person.
Dustin and I have discussed gym memberships. You know, the ones where you sign an 8 year contract and give them hair and nail clippings from your first born.
I once had a gym membership, and I signed a 3 year contract, because the sales girl said to me “Why just sign a contract for a year? It’s not like when you’re all fit and stuff and your year is up, you’re not going to ever use the gym again. Right?”
Wrong, Twiggy.
Anyway, Dustin and I have discussed memberships. Discussed as in we talk about it for a few moments and then he’s on eBay and I’m making chocolate chip cookies fried in butter. Or something like that. Why is it so hard? Why can’t I eat like a glutton and then walk around in a bikini with heels all day looking like Audrina Patridge? Oh, right. The eating like a glutton part.
Truthfully, my eating habits have changed a lot, and for the better. But I HATE working out. And how does the saying go, according to my 3 year old niece?
“I don’t like to do things that I don’t like to do!”
Seriously, I have to get my ass in gear. Summer, The Beach and The Lake are all knocking at my door, and I’m in the closet with my Cheetos.
I want to wear a bikini this year. Even if it’s only the bikini top with a glad garbage bag around my waist.

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