Tuesday, November 10, 2009

Where Is My Motivation, People? OH! There It Is...

Yet again I'm amazed at what an emotionally traumatizing event can do for one's exercise routine.

You're not following me are you?

Ok, this is the thing, you ever notice that when you get really angry about something...I'm talking RAGING angry about something that it gives you that extra little *oomph* in your workout? Well, something really got my goat in the last couple of days and it has got me madder than a wet hen. That means "really annoyed" for all you city speak folk out there.

I'm not going to go into detail about the reason my panties are in a bunch but it has got me goin'. The good thing about all this angst and pissy-ness is that my workouts are getting that extra kick in the butt which means more calories burned for me. I can practically see my assets shrinking!

Well, not really, but I'm convinced just being angry burns more calories than being happy or content. I sweat when I'm mad. Seriously. More than usual and I'm part Native American and French...there is a lot of sweating going on. Make me angry and I look like Billy Blanks in one of those Advanced Tae Bo VHS tapes! Except I'm white...and I'm a girl...and I'm not in nearly that good of shape...but the sweat! Billy's excessive sweating = my excessive sweating. There, that's the Clif's notes version of the whole sweat issue.

So there I am doing the cardio portion of my Power 90 program last night. To be specific we're on the "punching" section. I know I look ridiculous punching, I don't kid myself about the lack of toughness that I convey. However, my partner aka husband feels it necessary to heckle me while I go about my exercise.

"You look like a windmill that's gone horribly WRONG! You're confusing me!" This said whilst hiding behind his own raised arms. Like I'm some horrible mutant that has assaulted his eyes.

This just aggravates my anger which has gradually turned into rage and I start to windmill even more aggressively. All the while thinking: "I'll show him. I can punch and look tough with the best of them. I am an ANIMAL!"

Then it hits me...

No, literally, I hit myself in the mouth. Smooth. The only thing saving me is the fact that I didn't tell him and he didn't notice. I mean, it's not like I gave myself a bloody lip. THAT would have been hard to hide.

At least I still have the rage left inside of me for tonight's workout.

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