My Own Private Jillian

Ok, a while back (when he was still "roommate") I told you about buying hubby an exercise program.  It's called P90X.  I believe it stands for something that ends in extreme.  Tonight I am fairly certain it stands for the torture chamber that could be Jillian if you don't do it right.

That's right kiddies.  Today I started to count my points again (I hadn't been...for a while...) and only ate my Smart Ones meals (highly recommend their cheesy egg scrambles - yum!) and drank over 1 liter of water (more after this work out tonight).  And last night I didn't work out - but tonight WOOOOOHOOO.  We moved the coffee table and put the cardio dvd in and about 7 minutes into it I was looking down at my legs saying "why aren't you doing that?" because after running and jumping and some jumping jacks I literally could not move my legs back and forth to do jumping jacks.  But I did not give up.  I did the entire 45 minute program.  Ok, I modified it.  HEAVILY.  (omg there is some special place in hell for some of those jumping things)  But I did it.

And you know what?  I feel good.  I took a shower immediately because yeah, when you aren't used to working out I think you sweat more than the average faucet drips.  (TMI? too bad. it's my blog) But I DID IT.  He did it with me.  And encouraged me.  And we're going to do it again tomorrow.

The whole time I kept thinking "keep going.  someday you will look back on how sucky you were at this and you will be able to do the whole thing!"  And I pictured Hannah and Olivia and the others on the treadmills, the stairs and the bikes.  In the horrifying uni-bra and on television.  With Jillian.  And I said "I am doing this."

One day.  One pound.  One step at a time.
~N