Back in the Saddle

After a few weeks of successfully sustaining positive eating habits, I have fallen off the wagon. Actually I jumped off the wagon into a tub of Zip's fries. I journeyed to Spokane last week and the temptation proved too strong for this weak fast food loving heart to resist. As much as I look forward to spending time with my little nugget nephew and darling grandparents, I also cherish moments spent with pepperoni slices from Pipeline and mini corn dogs at Zip's. This fact makes me shameful and a candidate for Oprah Winfrey Network's "Addicted to Food." Here is another fact, it was so worth it. I am home in Seattle and have turned back into a pumpkin. Spring Break 2011 commences Wednesday, so no eating anything sinful til then!

Sister Wives

For those of you who are not tuning into Sister Wives on TLC-what the hell is the matter with you? To be fair, perhaps you aren't aware of this magical reality nugget. I am happy to educate. Sister Wives follows Kody Brown, his four wives, and their collective sixteen children. That's right, just a cozy family of twenty-one. I happen to think there is something severely wrong with me because Kody is a fundamentalist Mormon polygamist, yet the most disturbing thing to me about him is his hair. Beyond that he is an absolute goon. And you can't help but question the sanity of the women who voluntarily share him with one another. It is the strangest thing though, I can't help but like them, and even root for this super sized brood. On the one hand I think this outrageous way of life is royally effed up. On the other hand this unique family seems genuinely happy and truly loving. I am one to live and let live, especially if there are cameras capturing the living for my entertainment. And who is to say I wouldn't have brother husbands if given the chance. Although, at this point I'd settle for one husband!

Step Down

Continuing our tour of embarrassment at 24 Hour Fitness Casey and I took a Zumba class. Zumba is described as a "Latin-inspired, calorie-burning dance fitness party." Me attempting to participate in Zumba can be described as a "nightmare-inspired, leg tangling dance dis-fitness disaster." I thought it would be a breeze because I bust mad moves. At Zumba I just bust. Look for me in the next dance blockbuster Step Down.

Kicked & Spun

My new boyfriend Gym & I have been seeing each other for a few weeks now, & I have to say it is getting serious. I have worked out with my trainer Stephanie twice. We have a deal where I make her laugh for an hour & she kicks my ass. Oh, I also pay her. Feeling a bit more comfortable I decided it was time to give classes a shot. My good friend Casey also joined, & is already proving to be a wonderful workout buddy. Last night we attended our first Kick Boxing class. The 90 pound instructor started by explaining that this routine involved highly intensive choreography. I peed a little in my pants, flashing back to cheer leading tryouts freshman year where I couldn't master even those infantile steps. I basically flailed about in the back hoping not to be not to be noticed or go into cardiac arrest. Due to the wall to wall mirrors I couldn't avoid how ridiculous I looked. I breathed a sigh of relief that I'm not starring in a reality show. That's a scene I'd never live down.

This morning we went to a 5:30am Spin class. Pause for reaction. Spin makes my finger nails sweat & I love it. After my second class I have conquered my fear of being the only participant to fly over the handle bars on a stationary bike.

I haven't weighed myself yet. But I am no longer frightened at the sight when I step out of the shower. That my friends, is what we call "progress."

Gym. Tan. Bravo.

In an effort to lift my sagging Seattle spirits I have joined a gym. Rumor has it that working out releases endorphins which make you happy blah, blah, blah. Additionally, I unlike Sir Mix-A- Lot do not like big butts, particularly the one that has been following me around the last few months. When I signed up I was offered a complimentary one hour workout with a trainer. Richard Simmons wasn't available so I settled for a girl named Stephanie. There are all kinds of sexy male trainers, but I'd rather talk to them about well anything other than my "problem areas." I have been enjoying my workouts on my own but am hoping Stephanie will teach this fat dog some skinny tricks.

I have also embarrassingly enough resorted to tanning. I thought these crazy Jersey Shore characters are making mad money, perhaps they are on to something with this GTL business. Light therapy seemed like it would co-inside perfectly with my new gym routine.

As I previously blogged I have a severe fear of the laundry room, so I have catered the Jersey Shore schedule to suit my needs. I need Bravo. Bravo is chicken soup for the reality soul, it just lights up my life. There is not a housewives series I won't watch. Bring on Fargo, Kansas City, Yakima. I will watch them all, after the gym and tanning of course!

No One Likes Doing Laundry....

I like it the least! Not even because it costs $4.00 a load but because I am terrified of the laundry room in my building. I fear it like Kevin McCallister fears his basement. It looks like a storage room for dead people and smells like a storage room for clean dead people. The only logical thing to do is buy more underwear. Oh, and if I go missing tell the police to check the laundry room first.

Never Say You'll Never See Never Say Never

My name is Emily and I'm a Bieleber. I have loved Justin Bieber since One time, and I love him now that he is the ripe old age of 16 (in only the appropriate ways of course). It is no secret that my most intimate relationship is with my television. As a result I can recite the entire commercial for Justin's movie "Never Say Never." As many times as I have seen it, I still get misty. If anyone knows a fifteen year old that would like to see the very moving film it promises to be, let me know. Spread the word that I have a license and will spring for Sour Patch Kids.