CPR

What would you normally be doing on a Saturday evening post kiddies bedtime? Movie perhaps? "Snuggled" in your Snuggie with a good book? These would be normal.

But, at approximately 10pm, we started the most stupid venture ever....P90X.

For the next 90 days, according to the infomercial, we should develop the GLORIOUS beach bodies everyone covets. Did you catch the "should"?
..............Here's the breakdown of events:
~Embarrassing pictures taken of one another in our Pre-P90X shape.
~Three minutes of warm-up, to which Brad & I look at each other, and gasp,"We have a WHOLE HOUR of this!"
~We find ourselves contorting our bodies into various forms including a "banana roll", a "boat", and most dreadful of all, "the plank."
~Tony, our semi-human, semi-Herculean instructor encouraging us along the way to "not tear the muscle from the bone." Geez, I guess that's why I hurt so bad!
(Interjection here: Brad doing the banana roll/ superman yoga stunt was PRICELESS. He even broke into a fierce sweat.)
~One totally wasted hour later, we're running for the mirror to see the results.
Actually, I (true account) went to the fridge to eat the last piece of cherry pie. I needed to reward myself for all the hard effort.
To God be the glory in this earthly vessel, if He can redeem all the chicken nuggets and mocha lattes I've consumed, then He can do anything!