The Weight Of It All

This is my normal workout routine:

Monday: Spin class and abs;
Tuesday: Upper body weights, yoga class, spin class and abs;
Wednesday: Lower body weights, Pilates class and yoga class;
Thursday: Spin class and abs;
Friday: Spin class, abs and 12-ounce curls.
Saturday: I might move. If forced.
Sunday: Day of rest.

As I'm sure you can tell by this rigorous schedule, I am incredibly svelte. My body is rock hard. It's just that you can't see the rock hardness of it because it's covered with a voluptuous layer of fat. My body is not bad for 40 years old, but with this schedule you'd think I'd be a size 4. Size 6? Size 8? Um, sometimes yes, and sometimes no. Most times no. Apparently I eat too much. And drink too much. And my metabolism ain’t what it used to be. Whatever.

But! I also have this genetic problem. Fat white trash runs in my family. I am forever fighting the urge to smoke my Reds while chugging Mountain Dew AND eating something swimming in gravy. Most times I win. Sometimes I don't.

I swear, if I only lost 10 pounds, I could wear everything in my closet. Maybe if the group exercise director changed the fucking group exercise schedule I'd lose those 10 pounds. I'm sure it's all her fault.