Thanks to some fat cells that apparently have no interest in shrinking…and chocolate that can’t seem to stop finding my mouth…last week I decided to increase my runs from three miles to five.
Since the kids have been out of school, I have been running on my treadmill. I plug along as they sit in the other room reading, watching TV, or playing video games. Usually they are facing me, and mocking me with their cute, little, non-fat, perfect, flawless, skinny, legs and arms. Oh sorry…I drifted there for a minute.
During my second day of this extended work-out, when I had just finished mile four and was feeling awfully proud of myself, I looked into the living room and saw my daughter watching me. I smiled at her, then morphed into Rocky Balboa, pumped my fist in the air and said, “Aren’t I doing a good job? I am so proud of myself.”
Instead of mocking me, she flat-out slammed me when she smiled back and said, “Mom. Your face is purple.”