Clearly February was a wash

I know, I'm a lame blogger. I never said I'd be going pro. So I'm back after a few days, okay call it a month and we'll pretend February has 31 days. So what's my excuse? LIFE! I've read about, I've heard about - and it finally actually happened to me. I was too busy.

First of all, in spite of my respite from blogging and my 8-day trip to Hawaii and my week of "short-bus" legislative session, I somehow pulled through the 31-day February with 13 days of work-outs.

I'm too pretty for math, but that is damn near half the month, but clearly no Super Hero will be jumping out of any cake from that paltry showing. Oh yeah, speaking of cake - it was my birthday in February too. Anyway, before I left for Hawaii I had one last chance workout session with my trainer that I must share with you.

It was total humiliation. My trainer shows up with these super huge blue rubber bands that looked like they came off a newspaper read by the Jolly Green Giant. He takes these dirty nasty things and hooks them together to form a figure 8. Get it? A hole for each of us.

I have to climb in one loop, place it on the front of my hips and he gets in the other loop behind me and leans back on the band while I'm supposed to lunge forward with all his weight to pull. So that's fine, except for the fact that when I pull forward - all my bulges of fat envelop the band, like if you were to pull a string tight around a tube of dough.

I'd love to tell you no one was watching, but I'm afraid we now have the attention of the entire gym, because, well, because this was Asinine by anyone's definition of the term. It gets better. Next he tells me to sprint. What? I have an audience and I'm going to sprint with a full-grown black body builder in tow?

OMG. That's it. That's why I haven't blooged. I've been scarred for life. I've spent 31 days trying to block this out of my mind. This is my first step to recovery. So glad I shared.