Get your booty on the floor

I am embarking on a recover the lovely body I used to have but woke up
one day and realized I didn't have anymore routine. It will be fun! I
ran two 7 minute miles and three 8 minute miles on Sunday. Who knew I
could still run? Not me! I thought I was too old and pudgy to run and
therefore destined to be a slave to the ever-boring elliptical cross
trainer.

I am hoping that this transformation will be as miraculous as the one
that happened after my first year of college. I came home fat, without
a boyfriend and unemployed and then a month later realized my pants
had become two sizes too big, there were suddenly two boyfriends, and
I somehow found an incredibly awesome job. Oddly, I have no
recollection of that time except that I ate a lot of string cheese,
sliced ham, and apples. Maybe I stumbled across a revolutionary weight
loss strategy or something.

So I figure somewhere between ten and fifteen pounds will fix the
little problem and we will no longer have to suck in the entire time
we walk around at the beach.

I am telling you this so that on May 22nd you can demand a picture of
my bikini-clad self and I will not be afraid to show you. I am held
accountable this way, since I can't rely on anyone in real life to
support these sort of goals, besides they probably aren't very
interested in what I look like in a swimming suit. Actually, I am
quite certain my friends would rather shove ice cream down my throat
than go to the gym with me.

My biggest weaknesses will be chocolate and french fries so if I talk
about them, yell at me.