Friday, April 2, 2010

Earthquakes make less noise than my stomach in the morning.

As I was yanked out of a deep sleep this morning from the nagging sensation to hunt down a large beast like a Neanderthal emerging from his cave, I felt something weird around my mid-section. It was something I've not been familiar with in recent years. I raced to the bathroom to get a closer look when I realized -- Adam hasn't cornered the market on ribs. It's not just a biblical term anymore. I found my rib cage.

Of course, now instead of being elated that I can actually feel them - I have fear. OMG, I hear of people breaking their ribs and how painful that can be. Let's face it, these puppies have been swaddled like Tiffany stemware in bubble wrap for quite some time now. I'm vulnerable here.

With that said, I hop on the scale with a cheerio attitude (I felt British for a moment) thinking okay!!! This is going to be my day. What? There must be some mistake here. I've been sweating my arse off, eating like someone who has no taste buds and now this? I'm convinced I need a new scale. The needle must be broken. It hasn't moved in two months. Oh I know, everyone says, muscle weighs more than fat, yadda, yadda, yadda. I've got news for you, one pound of muscle weighs the same as one pound of fat. They both weigh a POUND.

I do realize that I've only upped my workouts since this Monday, so I clearly haven't shocked my body enough to let go of the fat it has become very fond of over the years. I'm on a Plateau and I'm ready to jump. I'm only joking, don't call the Hotline. I'm fine really, but the next time you see me and go in for the big hug, be cognizant of the ribs.

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