The Lucy and Ethel Workout

I know I promised you all a post on our workout. Erin even sent out an email last night wanting to know if we sustained any injuries. But there's really nothing to write about.

Here's our (non) story:

Malia got up from her nap around 6:00pm so the kids and I had dinner with Grandma. Truong was coming home late from work so it would have been tight in terms of getting the kids bathed and in bed before I headed out to the gym. All this was running in the back of my mind as I was eating dinner. Mind you, our plans were to hit the gym between 8:00pm and 8:30pm. It's 7:30pm, Truong shows up and he eats dinner. I'm still eating. It's Grandma's cooking so it's really good. I eat a little more. The kids are done so they start playing. I'm still eating. Grandma's done and she hangs out, chatting. I'm still eating. Truong was still eating so I felt compelled to keep him company.

In the end, I ate so much I felt a little ill. Well, OK, more than a little ill. I felt so ill that it was hard doing the post-dinner walk. This happens regularly with Grandma's cooking: you put food in front of me (that I didn't cook myself) and I'll just keep eating and eating until it's gone. Then I end up getting really sick from over-eating. You'd think I'd learn my lesson some time but apparently my stomach isn't connected to my brain.

As I'm slowly (and painfully) walking with the family, I suddenly remember that I'm supposed to work out tonight. And I had a horrible vision of projectile vomiting while on the treadmill and getting banned from the gym on my first day. Plus I can't believe I'm already slacking and we haven't even done a single workout yet.

I am reluctant to tell Truong how I'm feeling when he asks me when I plan on picking up Shana. I don't want to hear him say whatever dumb thing I'm sure he'd say about signing up and not using the membership. But I feel so bloated that I'd rather hear his "I told you so's" than be the "Girl Who Vomited at 24 Hour Fitness." So I tell him. He doesn't say a word at first. Then he says "I just don't want to see another late night Denny's receipt."

That wasn't so painful. A little embarrassing that he's caught on to our late night food runs and we can't even use the "we're pregnant" excuse, but I can live with that.

Next I call Shana. She picks up and there's hope for me: she sounds totally *blah* on the phone. Like she's expecting me to drag her off to the gym and she's not wanting to go but expecting a nag session. I tell her that I ate too much and can't go now -- but I should be able to go by 8:30pm, 8:45pm (I'm totally lying through my teeth here - going later would just mean me throwing up food that's more digested than if we were to go now). She tells me it's OK because Patrick just took Ryan to Best Buy and they won't be home until later anyway (around 9:00pm). Too late for the gym by then because she's got Gina and Gina's sleeping. Then she says "Good, you're my 'out' for Patrick" -- meaning my over-eating and feeling sick is her excuse for not going to the gym when Patrick gives her beef about slacking off.

Clearly our first foray into our work-out routine did not go as planned. This does not bode well for our "Bodies of Steel" image.

However, our next scheduled work-out is Sunday -- so we can still redeem ourselves.

Are you reading this Shana??

SUNDAY.
I'll pick you up.