Please Revoke My Social Media Privileges

Someone should really revoke my social media privileges.

You know how some people hide behind a computer screen posting horrible things to people? Things they would never say in real life? Like cowards?

I know. Hate those people.

Someone did that Monday night. On the social medias.

They provoked the Muscular White Gut behind the safety of a computer screen…

When he suggested I would be unable to run the day after leg day, I may have told him to “bring it.”

And when he and others suggested that what he had to bring would be both devastating and painful. For me. I may have said how much I enjoy a challenge.

In my defense, I’m an only child. I didn’t have siblings to teach me natural consequences for false bravado.

This is why my body hates me.

Tuesday morning started out with me carrying an unwilling 90 lb Rotty down the stairs. Because he insisted on following the puppy up the stairs, but was completely unwilling to even try to walk back down them.

So my shoulders were good and jacked up when Tiny Brazilian decided we should run the Rocky Mount Hill Challenge Tuesday night. In 9,000 degrees.

I did this hill challenge knowing full well that I would be attending leg day tonight. And that I’d provoked Muscular White Gut, so he was gonna design an extra special fun workout for us.

Five hills.

Click the picture to visit the Facebook page.

Then you can come count hills.

Because I’m gonna dispute that a little bit. I know I’m not known for the maths, but I definitely counted more than 5 hills.

Every time we got to the top of a hill I’d ask, “did that one count?” And I swear the answer was no. Every. Damn. Time.

Soooo leg day. After provoking Muscular White Gut. Was obviously the best choice for me.

First thing I heard when I walked through the door of PlayFITStayFIT was, “There’s my victim!”

Then he brought out that stupid little white board.

50 minute wall sit.

Sit with that for a minute. Pun intended. (Though I’m not sure that’s actually a pun. But that’s what was intended. Humor is my coping mechanism.)

That monster made us sit against a wall for FIFTY minutes.

And he had the audacity to drop a 500 pound ball in my lap while I was sitting.

If we fell out of the sit, we had to do weighted squats and weighted lunges and squat jumps and other masochistic things. And then get back into the wall sit. With our 5,000 pound ball.

Then. When that beautiful clock finally hit 50:00 and the joy of sweet relief flooded through me, he said the name everyone hates.

Sally.

Freakin Sally.

Squats to Bring Sally freakin Up.

Weighted squats to that little b-word Sally.

And don’t get me started on Old Miss Lucy and her dumb ass.

Screw Sally. And Old Miss Lucy. And Muscular White Gut.

I had a 45 minute drive home after that hell.

Forty five minutes of sitting.

When I finally made it home, I sat in my car for a good 12 minutes trying to remember what my legs felt like back when they still worked as originally designed.

Once I finally managed to pull myself out of my car, I stood at the bottom of these, kind of whimpering and debating how badly I needed to be inside of my home.

I mean, it’s good to be out with nature. And the cool breeze. And soft grass. And mosquitos. And ticks. And chupacabras…

Fine.

So, now I’m standing here in my kitchen wondering if I really need to ever sit down again. And how bad it would be to call in sick on the third day of SOL testing. And how bad an idea arm day will be tomorrow.

And why no one has taken my social media privileges away from me yet…

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