About six weeks ago, I gave up on that shit.
It wasn't even like it was hard. I felt good about it when I was done, and after just a week of doing the workout, I was totally even able to do a real push up (one glorious push up). Once I'd gotten the blog post out of it though, I was immediately over it.
So my plan to get super fit before my birthday fell pretty flat. I did get into some really good eating habits in the weeks beforehand though. I was drinking green smoothies every morning, I made salads filled with vegetables (without any real knowledge of what picking out a good cucumber entails), I briefly considered making kale chips (which, if you've seen what kale chips look like, counts for something), and I'd cut fast food entirely out of my diet (except once when I saw that Subway was making sandwiches with Fritos in them...FRITOS!).
The week after birthday weekend, however...wasn't great. My typical "Splurge Day" didn't last for just a day. Oh no, it was a week long free for all of mac & cheese, birthday cakes (yeah...plural), pizza, and Ranch Dipped Spicy Buffalo Doritos. I literally didn't make a smoothie all week because it would have required clearing off counter space for the blender. Salads were out of the question because all of my lettuce was wilted, and going to get more would have required me to take a break from watching Ghost Whisperer and sobbing.
Turning 28 has been a bit of a rollercoaster.
By the time my actual birthday rolled around I had fallen into a bit of a rut. My apartment was a disaster, I'd stopped trying to scrape the orange cheese powder from under my fingernails, and the most working out I'd done was having to vault over the ever growing Diet Coke can mountain on my living room floor to get to the fridge. I decided I was in no mood to go downtown and celebrate.
Until someone asked me to...
It was as if the week of poor decision making I'd done was all just preparation for a night where I would make a series of the poorest choices of my life.
Now, don't get me wrong, I made fun choices that night (really fun choices), and it's not like I did anything that I regret. It was definitely a birthday for the record books. But waking up to the remnants of the previous night's party, and replaying the hazy memories I had of the night before, I remembered that 27 was supposed to be the year that I was going to grow the f%#! up.
How have I not made more progress yet?!
So now I'm feeling my bi-monthly burst of motivation to take charge, make responsible decisions, and get my shit together.
The following Monday I cleaned up my living room floor, and put in the VHS I'd ordered two months before.
I'm gonna start out by saying that I did not underestimate at all how hilarious this is, but I 100% underestimated how f%#!ing hard it was going to be.
Richard and friends dancercize through 10 classic showtunes. The moves are fairly simple, and you get the feeling that it really doesn't matter if you f%#! them up a little bit, as long as you are smiling really big when you do it. There's a lot of cheering randomly from his chorus line, and Richard is super supportive, constantly shouting things like, "There's nobody like you!" or "This is your life!"
It seems like some of these people maybe misunderstood the casting call though...like maybe they thought they were showing up to dance for a real Broadway production, and they decided to just make the most of it in the hopes that maybe a chubby producer somewhere would buy this video and, in the midst of his workout, they'd be discovered. There's one woman in particular that I've become a bit obsessed with.
You can tell she wants this to be her big break sooooooo badly, and she showed up ready to steal every number she was in.
And homegirl brought it.
She's rocking a furry red cardigan (how is that comfortable for working out at all?!), what looks to be animal print leggings (although I can't for the life of me figure out what animal), the sassiest perm I've seen in my life (and I grew up in a small midwestern town in the 90's...I've seen some perms), and a smile so dazzling that it distracts from Richard Simmons himself (no easy feat considering he's a grown ass man wearing a bedazzled tank top and shortie shorts).
Her enthusiasm was contagious. Every time she was on the screen, I felt like I needed to up my game. By the third song it wasn't the hysterical laughter that was making me lose my breath, it was the maniacal grapevining, the overzealous knee slapping, and the almost frighteningly intense jazz hands. In fact, I'm pretty sure I threw my neck out trying to whip my hair with the same attitude during one of the many kick lines.
The whole video is an hour long...and I've yet to make it past the thirty minute mark. By the time they bring in the grain carts for the Fiddler on the Roof number, I'm gasping on the floor, cursing the hip thrusting chubby middle aged women making it look so damn easy on the screen.
I've attempted to complete it three times now.
That's good enough, right?
Shut up, bitch. You're not better than me.