Last night, an old friend's husband was going to meet me at the gym (he used to work at a different gym) to help me put together a routine. He stood me up. So after I finished my cardio, I started on the weights by myself. The first one I went to pissed me off. I couldn't get it to move, no matter what the weight was. And, of course, the more I tried to figure it out, the more attention it drew. So I finally kicked the machine (yes, literally) and left. In a huff. If my hair hadn't been up in a knot, I probably would have flipped it with indignation.
Then bff cancelled Zumba tonight. After having last night's workout not go as planned, that was frustrating. I'm not mad at her, just frustrated. I planned to go alone, but dozed off when the guys left for Cub Scouts. No worries, I have Zumba on DVD, right?
Wrong! Mr. D came home and took over the tv to play xbox.
So I'm whining to you guys instead of eating shit. Thanks for helping me not add more dimples to my ass. That's love.