Photo From GoogleY'all. Scary Spice is kicking my tail. I started one of her workouts yesterday and halfway through, I quit. I didn't say goodbye or thank you for your help, I just straight up turned off the game and
Once my heart rate slowed to that of a person being chased by a rabid dog, I thought, "Dang. That girl is good."
Today, as I got out of bed and realized that I'd be taking baby steps all day due to an inability to bend my legs, I thought, "Dang. I hate that girl."
I know I tend to lean towards the dramatic side when I tell stories but I'm toning down the drama when I tell you that as I tried to shave my legs in the shower, I had to all but skip my calves because the pressure of a Venus Embrace was equivelent to rolling around naked on a bed of broken glass. With tiny sharp rocks sprinkled on top.
All this from half a work out. I'm a special kind of out of shape. The kind that may just be beyond hope.
J. has been doing the workouts since I got the game and after the first day, he had the same problems even though he's in significantly better shape than I am.
First, let me say, I'm sorry I made fun of him for the fact that he got whooped by a Spice Girl. However, I'm not as sorry as I was because he now thinks himself an expert and tried to convince me that I needed to do the workout again today to loosen up those sore muscles. As if.
If I could move my leg, I'd kick him. Apparently, he missed my old lady shuffle around the house today and didn't hear me moaning when I tried to sit down. (Or stand up.)