You’re gonna regret that.
Psht. You don’t know. You’re not the boss of me. Fall Risk brought me presents. And I couldn’t not eat the chocolate. The dark chocolate. The Dove Dark Chocolate.
And I knew what was about to happen would probably suck pretty hard. So I’d needed the fuel.
Plus, who listens to J-Vicious, really?
LL suggested we call him J-Malicious after last night’s workout.
Fall Risk called him J-Killa.
All legitimate labels.
Because my birthday workout kinda sucked. Hard.
Especially after I’d spent the day being justifiably adored by my co-workers.
As I requested.
That teeny tiny little name under mine? (You may have to zoom in…)
That’s my boss’s name.
He claims the same birthday as me. But only from 3:00pm on. The full first part of the day was all mine. I let him have the last 30 minutes of school.
Because I’m a giver.
He didn’t question it.
Because he doesn’t need more drama in his life.
I rolled up into PlayFITStayFIT wearing my birthday crown and sash. Just so everyone was clear whose day it was.
Because I’ve played it so low key up to now.
I was a little sad to take them off when I changed into my workout gear.
But then Fall Risk showed up with a bag full of magic. Which included a special workout crown and birthday ribbon.
Because she’s a Leo. So she gets me.
Now that look? On my face? That’s not my happy smile. This is a post-birthday workout pic.
That’s my burpee-tire pull-battle rope-ball slam-bear crawl-box jump-jump rope face. That’s my J-Vicious made me be on his team just so he could try to push me until I puked the Dove Dark Chocolates back up smile. (I didn’t. I don’t waste food like that. I’ll keep swallowing that vomit back down all day.) That’s my B-Major refused to be on my team but J-Vicious made her anyway and the chick didn’t even try to stall between reps to give a sista a break smile.
That’s my at the end of all this mess, J-Vicious made me square off with every other person in the gym, one by one, for five burpees each saving his diabolical little self for last and he wouldn’t let me stop until I beat him to five and that required multiple tries because he uses some kind of voodoo magic to burpee at superhuman speeds and I offended their child when I asked her to please do the burpees for me smile.
That little girl looked at me with a mix of incredulity, annoyance, and pity.
I know. Because I get that look a lot.
And then she walked away.
I’m not real solid on the maths, but I’d estimate that I did around 582 burpees last night.
I didn’t puke. The nausea was real the whole drive home. But I did not like.
Sooooo, when Tiny Brazilian had burpees listed as exercise #1 this morning, I had questions…
I don’t have to do those right?
And not just burpees.
Single leg burpees.
What in the actual-
Lord please don’t let OT read this or he’ll be insisting on that mess the next time we hit North Mountain.
So I’m halfway through day two of my birth fitness week. My hips are unhappy.
But I’ve got a solid supply of Doritos…
And I haven’t puked. Yet.
Life is good.