Summer Sweaters

There's nothing better than putting on a nice, warm and cozy sweater. In July. I actually wore a sweater to work today. While I can't believe that I actually have this wool frock on, I am secretly very thankful. You see, I don't actually FIT into any of my summer clothes right now. I know what you are thinking.  

Get some clothes that fit. It's not hard. Get over it. You're married. You're happy. You don't need to obsess over a size you once were. You're getting older. Your body is changing. Ty loves you no matter what your size is.

OR  

Get off your chubby butt and work out already. Stop complaining if you aren't going to do anything about it. Take the stairs at work. Stop eating loads of carbs. Use your treadmill more than three times a week. And for longer than 30 minutes. 

I will tell you that I have been working out for the past three weeks. I'm still frantically trying to squeeze into things from last year with no luck. Shocking. I thought that for sure it would only take three weeks to work off the weight I have so stupidly gained over the past 9 months.

My situation is unlike that of Ty's. What I wouldn't give to be a guy that can just think about going on a run and lose a few LB's. Ty gives up pop for a day and is back in his skinny jeans. I will say that Ty does go to the gym. He spends an exhausting 4 minutes on the treadmill doing "cardio" and the remaining 20 staring at himself in the mirror as he lifts weights. He then gets home and scurries up enough energy  to make himself a celebratory cocktail - or two.

- Case in Point: This was last night at about 9:45pm, 

a mere 2 and a half minutes after he got home from Gold's - 

He may be onto something, but I think he has it backwards. I am starting to think I may need to begin each workout with a cocktail. I've done some running under the influence before and must say I am quite good at it.

There was this one time. In college. When I embarrassed myself in front of Dumond by running aimlessly down a busy street without the sense to look both ways through several intersections.

I'm lucky to be alive.

There was another time. In Cabo. When I ran back to the resort mad after Ty was tired of me dancing on the stage at Mambo's.

I'm lucky to be married.

Both times I was quite sore afterward, yet had zero recollection of the actual mental strain workouts tend to have on me. I may give it a shot this weekend. I could end up with a chipped tooth, skidded up knees, a broken limb, or all of the above in the end but at least I am one step closer to stepping foot into seasonally appropriate clothing again, right?