An exercise in futility

You may be about to know more about me than you want to...

transparency, right?

I exercise.

Shocker.

Imagine how volumptuous I'd be if I didn't.

Well, I imagine it; you don't have to.

I'm fairly dedicated to the pursuit of fitness.

And to the pursuit of varying amuse-bouches.

The latter to reward the former.

My mind is twisted, I tell ya.

The amuse-bouche du jour is good bread, feta cheese, and pesto.

Or Jenni's candy corn "trail mix."

Or a Honeycrisp apple.

Or the oatmeal raisin cookies from the W-mart bakery...

I know! That was a surprise.

It's that day-old rack...it gets me almost every time.

Oh, right...exercise.

But I do enjoy walking, aerobics, biking, even running (albeit slowly,) etc.

 I really like the Wii Fit.

It don't lie.

Since my body has accommodated two beautiful, rascally, considerably-sized babes

and delivered them into the world...

I have noticed some changes in my anatomy.

And its capacities.

I must choose my mode of exercise wisely.

And how vigorously I propel myself,

or laugh....

(So if you think I don't find you raucously funny...

I may be holding back, refraining from expressing it

 on your upholstered furniture.


Or maybe you aren't terribly funny. That is a possiblity.)

Perhaps you know what I'm talking about.

Perhaps not.

Sweet Man suggests I take up swimming for fitness...
and stop fighting it.