Rants and Swimsuits

I've been working out at the gym, faithfully, since December. I've gained 15 pounds in my rear and gut, and I don't think the weight gain is due to the newly-grown muscles in my triceps. My rear is bursting out of my old jeans (just say no to crack), and I look five months pregnant. Every time I pass the hallway mirror, I suck-in my gut. Then I wish I could remove my gut-pooch and stuff it into my bra.

My point is: It's warming up outside, and the yappy birds in our backyard trees are reminding me that, soon, I'll be sitting poolside in my itty-bitty, yellow-polka dot tankini. And that reminder made me wish that didn't have to wear a swimsuit with a padded top. Did you know stuffing with toilet paper doesn't work? The toilet paper sags then scatters into pieces once you've gotten into the pool. A total disaster. Trust me, I should have a PhD in this topic. (Hannah will die when she reads this. And you know what else? She and I have the same bra size, and I'm not kidding one bit.)

Last night I flexed my biceps for the Mia Maids, and they were totally impressed. I told the girls, "If you ever need me to kick someone's butt for you, I'll do it." That's what good Mia Maid leaders do: encourage Personal Progress and kick butts. (Such crass language from such a religious gal, I do say.)

Anyhoo, I want to tell you that I got an "A" in my writing class, two points shy of a perfect "A." Are you so proud of me? I just want to give a shout out to Professor Deakin for being such an AWESOME teacher--I adore her to her bones.

P.S. I can't take credit for that bodacious bicep. It belongs to my brother, Chris. My bicep is almost as big, though.