The Evilness that pervades our neighborhood (that would be the women to the immediate right and immediate left of me) dragged me kicking and screaming (yes, I was kicking! Yes, I was screaming!) to a new aerobics class this morning (ok, not so much with the kicking. And I didn’t scream so much as say a few bad words when getting up this mornings. And I did drive myself there…) Hi/Lo Cardio with Weight Training.

This should be renamed “Skinny Little Bitch With A Killer Six Pack Will Make You Feel Fat For 90 Minutes” Class.

Ok. She wasn’t a bitch. She was perky and happy and had this gung-ho You Can Do It! attitude. But, yeah, she had the killer six pack and I felt incredibly flabby whilst doing this.

But I liked it.

It was 90 minutes, and I neither puked nor sat down to cry my eyes out.

And afterwards, I hit the pool for half an hour and did 50 laps. Well, lengths of the pool, not laps. But it was 2 hours of exercise.

Yay me.

Tomorrow is Boot Camp, taught by another Skinny Thing, but she’s not perky, she’s commanding. And she will torture us for an hour, leaving me gasping for breath and calling out for Mommy.

But I’ll like it.

I’ll feel zesty and perky and 20 years younger when I’m done. My teeth will be whiter and brighter. I’ll be 15 pounds lighter and very buff.

All right, I can dream.

But I’m doing it. And I’m enjoying it. And I’ll miss it when we leave.

But give credit to the Neighborhood Evilness?

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