No More Pudding

Happy Lollipop Tuesday, folks.

Lately I’ve been feeling  very… full of pudding.  I jiggle where I shouldn’t jiggle.  It’s been suggested that it has something to do with my lifelong affair with pizza and ice cream, but it’s all pretty circumstantial evidence if you ask me.

Nonetheless, Dave’s a Hottie Mchottie and if I actually plan on being with him for any longer, I’m gonna have to lose the pudding.   So this week, I whipped out P90X.

There’s a lot of talk about P90X.  There are YouTube videos and blogs everywhere that people have dedicated to its magical powers to shape them into something decent enough for other humans to be able to stomach.   If you aren’t familiar with it, allow me to indulge you ever so slightly.

P90X is a system that guarantees it can get you sexy in your birthday suit in 90 days or you get your  money back.  But you don’t need to worry about filing a claim because the entire system includes a nutrition guide, a special smoothie you throw together after your workouts, and some butt-kicking workouts.  It’s pretty darn impossible for you to not lose weight if you follow the prompts and eat properly.    The whole system is masterminded by a guy named Tony Horton (like Horton Hears a Who), who will simultaneously make you feel like a fat slug and make you feel like it’s okay if you aren’t a fitness model.

whoa.

Of course I didn’t do the entire system.  I tried a workout – you know… to feel it out.  I’m seriously considering doing the entire thing from start to finish because it’s truly impressive how great of a workout you get in such little time.   My poison of choice was the “Ab Ripper X” workout.  Firstly because it sounds so badass.  And secondly because I thought it would be a good shock to my pudding center.

And that it was.

This workout is only about 15 minutes altogether, and it will wreck you.  At least – it wrecked me.  I thought I was all right the day after. I kept commenting to Dave (who already does it regularly) that I felt all right but I was getting a little sore.  He snickered and told me to wait until the 2nd day.

The 2nd day is awful.

Not only were my abs in total agony, but the terror reached all the way down to my thighs.  It felt like little gremlins were gnawing at my deepest muscle tissue every single time I stood up from my desk at work.   It was glorious.

I don’t typically care for workout instructors.  Even my faithful Pilates girl is awkward and talks too much.  But Horton-Hears-a-Who is so good to me.  He’s firm, he doesn’t talk too much, and he tells me constantly that it’s okay to take breaks.  I feel safe with him – like he doesn’t want me to be made of pudding, but he understands that it’s hard to make pudding do things sometimes.

So I might actually head to the store this week to get the goodies I need to do this thing.  In 90 days it will be June, and I could be a Hottie McHottie.

And then Dave will have to dump me for my insanity, not for my pudding center. ♣

Tags: 365 Project, fitness, Humor, life, musings, postaday2011