This morning I was woken up at 7.10 by Bimble sitting on my bladder. That got me up in a hurry. What is it with kids on Sundays who don’t respect the sacredness of the Lie In? I’m not about to get her a TV for her room so that she will leave me alone, but I handed her my iPhone to play with so that I could catch a few extra minutes. But no. She ends up choosing Talking Tom and making him do bottom burps so that inevitably, she achieved what she first set out to do. Get me out of bed.
However I was feeling rather perky. Last night The Rock and I were on Date Night. So naturally we headed to the cinema, curled up under our blankets in the Lazy Boy chairs, eating dim sum and drinking perrier while I watched Andrew Garfield turn into a rather attractive arachnid. I love how in the Spidey movies they have to transform Peter Parker from skinny, gawky geek into an acrobatic flying hubba-hubba guns of steel kinda guy. I was rather impressed with Andrew Garfield’s transformation. Heck I think I need me some new glasses people!
Back to his guns. There is one scene, I can’t quite recall which one in particular though as I was sitting in a state of adoring rapture, when his bicep is straining from his short sleeves. I do appreciate a man who makes an effort. I also appreciate it when a guy doesn’t look like The Thing. You know, the huge muscles, muscles so big that he can’t touch the side of his legs as his biceps and lats are just in the way. If you ask him to stand with his feet together, he looks on helplessly because his tree trunk thighs are already squeezed together yet his feet are still four feet apart. Not for me thanks.
So last night without trying to make The Rock feel bad, I casually mentioned that Andrew Garfield had inspired me. Not that I wanted to jump about scurrying on all fours swinging from cranes (although how fun would that be?!). But I was thinking of a Transformation.
So back to this morning. Having accepted my fate of not having a luxurious lie in on this fine Sunday morning, I strapped on my Asics, slipped into my Lululemon (if you want to know exactly what I wore it was the Turbo Running shorts, my Flow Y bra, and my Cool Racerback). As soon as The Dog saw what I was up to, she started her excited dance. Skipping, tap dancing, chasing her tail, hopping, and just about nearly pee’d in non exisiting pants. You see, sometimes I take her with me, and sometimes I don’t. This morning I was feeling nice so The Dog came with me on my walk.
When I go for my walks I tend to be a “Hill chaser” looking for any incline to increase the intensity of my walk. This morning The Dog and I were chasing each other up these hills. The Dog is fast, I mean, greyhound fast. So naturally she was up there, tongue lolling with a look that said “come on come on come on what’s next come on LET’S GO!!”. After about a half hour of these hill sprints, I was beat. So we trotted on home, and I was rather pleased with my efforts this morning.
The Dog was a pretty good trainer, she had me on my toes, she inspired me, and she was fun and free. The only downside was of course, that with this personal trainer, I had to scoop her poop. So she ain’t quite perfect after all. I bet Bob Harper doesn’t make his Big Loser’s do that.