Because I will be a stripper. But first!

Two things happened yesterday to renew my confidence in myself. Lately, I have been cursing my weight-loss plateau and spending an obscene amount of time wishing I could see my hip bones when I look in the mirror. But yesterday? Yesterday I cursed my weight-loss plateau and spent an obscene amount of time wishing I could see my hip bones in the mirror. HOWEVER…

Number One Thing: I went to my first kickboxing class in over seven years. It was an hour long class, no resting, no slowing down…just Constant. Motion. I know if I would have been home doing a Tae Bo tape I would have cheated and quit, or at the very least, paused the tape so that I could walk into the kitchen to get a bowl of chocolate ice cream with chocolate syrup. But this class? It DOESN’T LET ME CHEAT! And the woman teaching it is a drill instructor on crack living in a 5’2″ body of steel. And I can’t believe I did it. And I can’t believe I want to go back next week. And I feel skinny already (even though I’m totally not and during the ab work at the end of class I thought I was dead because I was no longer in pain – I think they call that “going into shock”).

Number Two Thing: I consistently kicked Tony’s ass at Wii Bowling. He DOES have the high score right now, but I am determined to change that. Also, I don’t really care because it is extremely entertaining watching him jump up and down screaming to the Wii that “THIS IS BULLSHIT! I QUIT! FUCK YOU!” and then two seconds later he is doing the “fist pump” after a strike. This game brings out the best in people, I’m telling you. Like when I started our second game off with two strikes and I heard his voice from the couch calmly dub me, “Whore”. You may read this and think we have potty mouths in our house and really? I have no excuse for this. All I can say is you would know why if you came to our living room rug. Trash talk is not optional, it’s compulsory, People.

Tomorrow I am throwing a bachelorette party for Miss (Heretofore, “Miss Sassafras”). When I say “bachelorette party” what I really mean is a gathering of co-ed, borderline-alcoholics who need an excuse to get together and act like delinquents. I’m curious to see who takes the first bite out of the cake baked in the shape of a penis. My money’s on Miss’s fiance, Mr. Zoki. The girls are leaving the guys to grill hamburgers while we attend a class that will teach us how to perform a striptease. What the instructor doesn’t know is that we will be teaching her how to act ridiculous in heels and fishnets while giving her a lesson on the finer points of the Roger Rabbit and the art of Tucking the Fat Roll. Sexy.

If the guys are lucky, we won’t be intoxicated when we return, and we won’t perform our newly mastered skills.

I don’t think they’re that lucky.

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