So, the working out every day doesn't bite anymore.
In fact, I look forward to it.
Love it, even.
Plus there's all the delicious eye candy.
Gerard Butler look alike.
Guy from (I kid you not) stupid VH1 wanna be a stripper boy. He's actually hot. Too bad. Darla told me he was cut from the show last week. She actually watches that stuff.
Very attractive older man. Odd older man phase. Not like geriatric older, just old enough that you KNOW they know what they're doing and WONT bog you down in stupid relationship conversations such as "Where are we going" and "Am I the only one".
Not in the eye candy category now. New Category.
This chick rocks.
My age or slightly above.
Drives a very nice vehicle so you know she's doing well for herself.
TONED. TONED. TONED.
In other words, not bulky.
She's very trim and toned.
Yet, she benches 125, squats 100 and single max dead lifts 250.
She's so my hero.
I tend to bulk up. Hormones and genetic makeup. I tone slightly but bulk.
I'm told it's sexy . . . but prefer just tone.
So totally off topic.
Ladies, let me tell you about my best friend.
The little pink pill.
First hormone birth control that doesn't make me crazy, sad or in pain.
Also, you only have a period 4 times a year.
Unfortunately, when one of those four times comes . . you want to cry. Not in pain because it's just so unexpected (even though it's clearly marked by little white pills in the pack). You didn't want this. You didn't ask for this. You're not even sure you want kids. Why do you have to go through this? Men don't regularly bleed from pertinent orafices, yet they can still have kids. Is all this necessary? Woe is me.
Though, for whatever reason (I'm told this differs in some women), I have this burst of energy. I want to work out today. Today. My day off. The Sabbath of workouts. And yet, I'm driven to go to the gym. Or even ignore the gym and pull out my elliptical machine and work out here. Or my free weights. Or my tension cords. Or whatever. Woe is me that this drive for action can't be used for other matters.
Woe is me.