I'm so, so tired. I went back to my friday night aerobics class for the first time in a while...like, over a year. THe teacher was different but the classmates were essentially the same. I worked my ass off, my face was red as a tomato, but I feel amazing. It was hard work--like the kind of hard work that means I can pretty much eat whatever I want tonight and still drop weight. Damn.

But my dream of being an aerobics teacher might not be doable. See, I look absolutely ridiculous. I usually try to hide behind someone else so I don't have to see myself in the mirrors but today, no, I had to be up front. I had a hard time keeping up though, and I'm pretty sure that "fuck you whore" is not an acceptable answer to "can we do it one more time?" But to be honest when the teacher asked if we could run through the routine one more time I was the only one who answered, and that answer was a single finger held aloft to indicate "one more time." Oh, and one step was called the Fred Astaire. Our teacher explained that it's because of hs dance moves in such movies as "Singin in the Rain." Yes, you do know me, I corrected her. But at least I could talk. A sign that you're working at a good aerobic level is that you're able to carry on a conversation.

As we began the abs/cooldown section I began to doubt my choice in exercise gear. My favorite exercise shorts are long gone, I believe I left them in Anaheim last fall. But the point is I had to wear my old school Lane Bryant shorts which, as you probably know, are entirely too huge for me. So as we do the floor exercises they kind of shift. Now, I have nothing to hide but I'm not eager to let my fellow gym-goers know that yes, I'm a natural redhead.

I'm glad to be back on the horse again (but not the baloney pony, sucka).