Fail. FAIL FAIL FAIL.
I spent last night browsing today’s exercise schedule at no less than three different branches of my local YMCA, wondering which one to grace with my presence and awkward dance moves. I even checked and double-checked the child watch schedule to make sure Bean had a place to chillax while I dropped ten pounds like gangsta pants.
But then I stayed wide awake between the hours of 1AM and 4AM, fervently hoping Bean didn’t wake up for a middle-of-the-night snack the minute I finally fell asleep. (She did.) And consequently slept through every morning class I earmarked, then cited the rain as a good excuse to stay indoors like the schlup that I am. (Besides, who wants to tote a baby carrier through inclement weather? Bean could catch pneumonia, and then where would we be?)
By the way, I made a half-serious deal with myself to fit into this one pair of jeans I haven’t worn in almost a year, so to keep myself accountable, I’m inviting you all, blogger buddies, to join in my adventure. One hilarity-filled Jazzercise class at a time. (If I dance it, they will come.)