Oh how I wish I could participate in Winesday Wednesday this week. While in a HOT bubble bath. And eating sushi.
And why is it *only* Wednesday? This week (actually, the last few weeks) have felt excruciatingly long because work is pretty much dead right now. I have no fear in telling you that all I do is sit at my desk for 8 hours and play Two Dots/check Instagram/check Twitter/Facebook stalk/pretend to buy things online because we are in the slowest part of our slow season and practically no work is coming in. You get comfortable enough with it, and when an email DOES pop up, it’s like SIGH Why do I have work to do, this SUCKS.
Could be worse. (Like the hole I just found in the crotch of a brand new pair of leggings I bought)
Good news though: Gas is like 75 cents a liter (about $3/gallon); I just earned a Starbucks treat reward; salads aren’t making me gag AS MUCH; and some old guy gave me a bunch of knife stickers in the Safeway parking lot last night. That last one might make more sense to Calgarians who frequent Safeway??
Let’s talk about workouts, shall we? Haha no, we probably shouldn’t. In the verrrrrrry back of my mind, I’m pretty bummed that I can’t continue to do pretty high-intensity workouts that leave me sweaty and wiped out. But most of the time, that thought is blocked with the notion that I am SUPER lucky to have these months (of baby growing) to kind of just take it easy [or as it would be said back home, circa high school years ‘mucho-take-it-eazzzzzzze’]. That said, I’ve been satisfied with days that are only comprised of 30-min at home yoga DVDs, modified-to-THE-MAX T25 workouts, and some circuit/interval workouts I put together myself. I DO miss miss miss the gym because cardio can be super lame at home. Yeah, I know there are tons of options for at-home cardio, but add in the pregnant factor, and jumping jacks and jump rope are pretty much non existent. Hint: they’re pee inducing.
On the rare occasion, I will go to a spin class but I’m seeing those becoming less and less frequent. The last class I went to, the instructor actually got off her bike, stood in front of me, and insisted I get my knees directly over my toes. CLEARLY not possible when I have a human in my stomach and am perched on a seat no wider than my wrist.
Confession: I actually ‘ran’ to the kitchen during one of my rest breaks in a workout TO EAT A DAMN COOKIE.
I’ll be joining a gym once again after the baby is born. THEN I will make every piece of cardio/strength equipment my bitch. I’m looking forward to it. And to squats that don’t trigger potty breaks.
Food. Hmmm, food. Correction: CEREAL. I can’t get enough of it. My weakness, my achilles heel, my love for so many years. (Moment taken to sigh and reminisce over the last few boxes consumed)
Let’s stop talking about food. But first, lemme just say that Starbucks needs to carry a larger inventory of chocolate chip cookies. Do you know how furious I’ve become over the last few weeks when I’ve actually travelled to 4+ locations just to find one? And then it’s usually the last one. You know, the crappy looking one left on the plate that no one wants. But I eat it anyway.
BABY. I think I finally get it now why people get all gushy and social media-whorish when it comes to their pregnancies and children. Sorry for ever bad-mouthing you. (I think the same thing happened to me re:weddings). I mean, I obviously haven’t met the kid yet, but HOLY HELL I have spared no expense in his nursery and am beyond giddy when I go back into his room time after time to take a peak at all the goodies we’ve gotten so far. PS: I am now broke. PPS: I can kiss new Lululemon goodbye for the next 18 years. PPPS: I don’t care, I bought some of the cutest crap to hang on the walls. (That last one is so hormonal sounding. Ugh)
DOGS. Layla is the best, but she is super impressionable and of course mimics a lot of the things Reggie does and some of our habits. Her latest thing has been peeing in the middle of the night (bet you can’t guess who she picked that up from). Reggie is just an idiot. His latest feats: eating a box of Kleenex and my latest and greatest batch of homemade salt scrub. And I can tell he’s not even sorry.
Time for a potty break.