Things NOT to do When Spring Daylight Savings Time Hits. A Cautionary Tale.

And by cautionary tale, obviously, I mean shit I already did. And probably shouldn’t have done. Because holy fuck, I’m feelin’ it today. And yesterday.

Mostly, I think Daylight Savings Time is stupid, but that’s another topic for another day.

Instead, let’s get into the ridiculous shit I did this weekend without thinking about the time change designed to fuck up one’s life. Let’s just call this… A letter to me 365 days from now. Don’t forget, Christine (that’s what I call myself when I’m lecturing myself). This shit’s important.

  1. NEVER plan on going out drinking (when you pretty much never go out drinking) and expect to be functional the next day. Just don’t. Even if it’s a bachelorette party. You plan on a day wasted napping, snacking, watching House of Cards, New Girl and playing Simpsons Tapped Out on your tablet. You won’t even get to write a blog post. Trust me. You’ll be useless.

  2. Honestly, you probably shouldn’t consume more liquor in one night than you have in the last month combined. You’re not in college anymore, sweetheart.

  3. NEVER leave your blinds cracked open. You don’t remember this from last fall when it was still warm (pretty much EONS ago), but the sun coming in your room in the morning? Sucks. Especially after a night of drinking. When you’re crabbier than normal. Dumbass.

  4. NEVER plan your time at the gym at the crack of dawn after the time has jumped ahead an hour. And more importantly, DO NOT schedule an appointment with your trainer at 9 am. That’s just stupid. You’re a moron. If you’re lucky, the aforementioned blinds will wake you up long before your training session…with enough time to text your trainer and tell her you’ll be in late. Like 6 hours late. If you get to her in enough time to not leave her house, she’ll be cool about it.

  5. Really you probably shouldn’t schedule an appointment with your trainer after a night of heavy drinking in general. I don’t care that you want to work off the calories of the taco dip, potato chips, penis cake, mozzarella sticks, nachos, and Greek fries from the night before…or the eggs, hash browns, corned beef hash, biscuits and gravy, and pancakes from your ginormous hangover breakfast…it’s probably not worth it. And it’s going to take more than one sesh to burn those calories, doll.

Obviously, I had a stellar weekend. And now it’s Monday. How was YOUR weekend? Did you do anything spectacular? How well did you handle the time change? Did you have to push your Sunday back a few hours or were you ready for it?

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

As promised, I went back to the gym — And met the devil in plastic

A short while back, I mentioned something about needing to go to the gym so I could continue to indulge in comfort foods. And thus began my journey down the rabbit hole of having a personal trainer.

Brian and I have had a gym membership for over a year. But we’ve gone maybe 5 times. Maybe.

I needed some serious motivation to get back to the gym and I was SERIOUSLY missing the awesome group training sessions I had when I went to this amazing gym back in Aurora (which is much too far away to maintain a membership). Also Brian is determined to keep up with this gym thing (look at us becoming gym rats!) going…so he convinced me that the trainer was the way to go.

OK. Fine.

So, on Day 1: The Assessment, this chick (the trainer) turns out to be super nice (I mean, despite the making me sweat thing) and an English major to boot. Good choice, Gym Manager Guy. Good choice.

She worked me a little hard to see my level of strength, but nothing terrible. Except for the Godawful Bosu.

Bosu Balance Ball

The Bosu Balance Ball*: The Devil in Plastic.

I had informed Trainer about my bad knee, ankles, and wrists…basically that I can’t do a whole lot of anything on them. Or risk serious pain. Push-ups? Planks? No thank you.

So she decides that it’s a good idea to put me on this half ball thing, which only makes shit harder…

Resting my elbows on the Devil in Plastic, she had me hold a plank position (that means a push-up position with a flat back) for…AS LONG AS I COULD.

Which turned out to be 15 whole seconds.

She let me rest. And then she made me DO IT AGAIN.

This time, though, she told me to go to my happy place. And I started smiling. And thinking. And internally giggling. And I said to her,

“If I told you I was thinking about cheese, would that be wrong?”

Her response?

“Whatever gets you through.”

30 seconds later, she told me I could rest. Cheese. Doubled. My. Stamina.

A few days later, she brought out that dreaded thing again. And I was ready for it.

Brie, cheddar, swiss, havarti.

Brie, cheddar, swiss, havarti.

Fuck. I can’t focus. I can’t think of other cheeses.

Brie, cheddar, swiss, havarti.

Blue!

Brie, cheddar, swiss, havarti.

Why can’t I think of other cheeses?!

Why is this so hard!

Brie, cheddar, swiss, havarti.

And rest.

I may not have been able to divert my attention back to cheese but I did 3 reps of 30 seconds each, repeating my mantra inside my head. And if you’re going to have a mantra, it should be things you love right?

Never underestimate the power of cheese.

Do you work out? Do you want to work out? Do you have a gym membership you don’t use?

How do you get through tough workouts?  What’s your secret?

*Some links lead to Amazon and may then lead to Amazon sending a tiny contribution to my cheese budget. I thank you in advance.

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!