I am in Facebook Hell (stop)
Send help (stop)
Or Oreos, really, would be just as good.
Speaking of Oreos, I went to the gym again this morning (I know! Twice in one week! Or as a friend asked me this morning, upon seeing me in work-out clothes, has hell frozen over????) There, I ran into another local mom I know. Now, this mom hires herself out as a personal trainer for good reason. She is fit, adorable, has a killer bod, and runs marathons on a regular basis. If she wasn't so stinking nice, I would be annoyed with her. As it is, you can't help but like her (and envy her toned thighs, all at the same time.) Those of you reading this locally know exactly who I'm talking about.
When I walked into the gym she said hello (with a look of surprise and bewilderment in her eyes, I'm sure, at the fact she's never seen hide nor hair of me in the gym) and asked what I was up to. I told her I wasn't sure if I was going to walk around the track, or on the treadmills ..... I walk faster than most of the older people there (but not the pregnant ladies, obviously) and thought it might be easier to just stick to the treadmill instead of passing people and being forced to say, "excuse me, excuse me" over and over for half an hour. Hmmmm, which to do, which to do.
She said, without batting an eye, "Why not do both?"
And I realized ---- THAT is why she is a size zero and I am a pack mule. MY line of thought was wondering which would be less work; HER line of thought was to simply do both.
Something tells me SHE won't be vacationing in Antarctica this summer with me.