Lately

I had a feverish girl home from school two days last week and let me tell you,

I was so happy to be out of the house once she was better.

I started working out with a friend/trainer, Beth.

She texted me on a Saturday evening and pretty much told me I was going to start working out with her and a neighbor down the street.

It was an offer I couldn't refuse.

She participates in body building competitions

and wins.

I have a healthy fear of her.

I had done precious little physically since my surgery other than riding a stationery bike and working with some stretchy bands that are WAY too tight or I am just WAY too weak for them.

Beth plopped some weights in my hand and had me working out like I'd not been lying on the couch watching Hallmark movies for almost an entire month.

I could not move the next morning.

Getting up and down onto a toilet made me holler out in pain.

I wondered if there was some sort of mechanical up and down toilet 

that could alleviate the need to squat.

Get on that, Craft-o-matic.

Stairs were murder.

I said, "Ow!" on every step.

I finally got out the rolling pin to try to work through my tight thigh muscles.

It was very, very helpful.

That night, after tucking myself into bed, I realized that I would not be able to fall asleep until I rolled my tight muscles again.

The rolling pin was downstairs.

The very thought of enduring going down and then BACK UP the stairs was too much.

I convinced Monte to help me out.

He begrudgingly did but came up the stairs with the idea that if he just did the rolling for me, he could loosen up my soreness once and for all.

With all his power and might, he roller-pinned my leg.

I yelped enough to wake the dog.

I may have passed out for a second.

After I stopped whimpering, I grabbed the rolling pin out of Monster Monte's hands.

I started rolling my sore pectorals.

Monte may or may not have muttered something like,

"For the love of our marriage, I'm rolling over 

and turning off the light."

I'm not sure newlyweds could respect one another's space enough 

to allow their spouse to roller pin their pecs 

in the privacy of total darkness.

It's the stuff of old marrieds.

By the time I went back to the gym, I was only slightly still in ridiculous pain.

This morning, I walked up and down the stairs without a single, "Ow!"

Victory.

Over the weekend, Monte and I decided to hit a consignment shop we really like that was having a big sale.

I was taking a bit too long browsing around.

I know this because Monte walked up to me wearing this.

He said something like,

"I wish I had someplace to wear this."

Not sure where such a place would be.

1960?

On a completely different note, a week or so ago, Julie, texted me that she thought I looked like a woman on a MiraLAX commercial.

I could not deny the resemblance as much as I did not want to look like a lady that could convincingly sell you a laxative product.

I am pretty sure I have that blouse too.

Without actually digging out the blouse, I tried my best to recreate it.

Not quite, I know. 

But I'll work on it.

Once I can use my arms fully again.

Yep, it was arms day at the gym this morning.

Where's the rolling pin?