And this is my workout partner. He thinks he’s fine just the way he is. I think he could improve his aerobic capacity a little bit. And maybe shower more frequently.

This is an exercise called “stiff-legged deadlifts.”

Cathe says they’re supposed to strengthen our hams, which you might think are dinner entrees but really, that just goes to show you how much you obsess about food.

This is what I see when I do stiff-legged deadlifts.

When the barbell moves up and down it brushes Mojo on the nose, which doesn’t bother him at all, but now the barbell is coated with the awful stuff that comes out of bulldog noses.

This is a “leg press with band.” Cathe can do these all day. She is amazing.

This a certain stinky little bulldog who doesn’t take hints like, “shoo!” or “go away!” when I’m trying to do leg presses. Instead, he just keeps pestering me for more info on those hams. He also claims I cheat on leg presses.

That gray round thing up there is my stability ball. It follows me around all by itself. Sometimes it gets bored and wanders off to roll into Mojo. I’ve taken to calling it Fred.

Mojo doesn’t like Fred. All he knows is that there he’ll be, offering Bonnie some helpful fitness tips when… [insert theme music from Jaws here]

… all of a sudden—Wah!

We don’t say “diet” around here, no, no, no.

The very word diet comes from an Old French word meaning “put the cookie down,” and therefore denotes deprivation and great sadness, not to mention multiple handfuls of Nestlé Toll House Morsels tossed back when nobody’s looking.

Nope. In our house we use the phrase, “eat clean,” which means, we eat better than you.

It means that after intense dietary research, after the expensive purchase of lots of “whole” and “unprocessed” and “organic” foods, and after the violent and heartless removal of my stash of Nestlé Toll House Morsels from deep within the freezer, I may now make fun of my neighbor’s block of Velveeta when she isn’t in hearing range.

Because I’m eating clean, I’ve also gotten religion. Where I once mistakenly attended the Our Lady of Low Fat, I have now seen the light and worship at the Holy Mysteries of the Low Carb, where we tsk tsk about those poor souls still attending the Gathering of Calorie Counters. They’re all going to swimsuit hell. They just don’t know it yet.

Didn’t need religion yesterday, though. Any desire to eat instantly evaporated when I moved my kitchen trash container to sweep and found… this… creature:

Allow me to introduce the Kiwa Hirsuta, which after intense scientific study has been found to be not only very kiwa, but also extremely hirsuta.

Okay, so that’s the wrong creature. My creature was a land lizard of some sort, minus various body parts, whereas this is a sea crustacean of some sort, presumably found intact. But I’m certain the scientists who discovered this character also lost their appetites when they realized what garlic butter would do to all that blonde hair.

By the way, “kiwa hirsuta” means hairy garlic butter, in case you were wondering.

Nope, the lizard creature I found had crawled under my kitchen trash to hide from one of the cats, but sadly gave up and croaked after he realized the Lizard Swat Team also got eaten and at that moment was being regurgitated all over our living room couch.

Yes, “eating clean” in this house is much easier than you’d think it might be.

“Oh good lord,” you say. “Now we’re all gonna be subjected to ‘Woo hoo! My forearm muscles came in! Yay!’”

Come on, can it be that bad? I just don’t understand sentiments like Pat’s:

Blog Resolutions

*I will not start an exercise program and chronicle my progress on my blog. If God Almighty wanted me to run, he would’ve put me in the Stone Age and set a saber tooth tiger after me.

Pat Kirby, Ramblings from the desert

As much as I adore Pat, I’ve gathered two important facts about her from her blog that you should know, namely: 1) She sounds tiny, and 2) I’m pretty sure my bottom outweighs her.

She may be scrappy as all get out and she probably can beat me at arm-wrestling (those artists build biceps like bowling balls!) but I figure I can quiet her down some if I sit on her. There’s no way she’s going to protest if she can’t inhale.

I won’t go into great detail about my workouts, I swear. I’ll just give you a few nonspecifics here and there, like how God Almighty didn’t see fit to send me a saber tooth tiger to help me with my cardio.

He did send me Mojo the Bulldog, though, an offer I resisted until yesterday—when I barricaded Mojo out of my workout space and as a result he almost electrocuted himself. (Electrifying details to follow in the next Monday Morning Mojo.)

So from now on, it’s just Mojo and me, working out, battling those extra pounds together.

Yay.

Start. Or Finish. You pick. I couldn’t find a picture of the middle part, when you’re kissing the ground.

Pushups are evil.

This is what I see whilst doing a pushup trying to do a pushup.

Yes. Pushups are evil. Oooh, that’s one of my better towels!

This is what I see when a bulldog tries to help me do a pushup.

This is what happens when I tell the bulldog I don’t want his help with pushups.

This is the bulldog showing me he can do pushups better than I can.

Mojo: You see? Very easy. DOWN. I do it all the time. Now you try.

Mojo: And this is, uhhhhhhh…. wait a minute… I’ll get it… uhhhhhhhh… uhhhhhhhHHHHHHHPPPPP!

Spring is almost here! Woohoo! Birds are chirping, flowers blooming, the whole world is waking up. Spring! That grand time of year when a woman’s thoughts turn to…

Swimsuit season? Holy cow! It’s only a few months away−and I’m WAY out of shape!

March 2.

Desperate times call for desperate measurements. Here’s my new weekly schedule: three days cardio, three days weights, and yoga/pilates every evening. On the seventh day I collapse into a coma.

Started a low carb internet diet, too. Looks doable, except for the no sugar part. Couldn’t they come up with something easier? Like shaving my head?

And I wrote up an affirmation: Every day I’ll shine! Cute, hunh? Positive, yet symbolic of the new me.

March 6.

Lost one pound! Woohoo!

Had a scare at the grocery store today. Peeps! Normally I don’t like them, but right now they’re calling me. Ha! Like I’m gonna answer! First come the Peeps, then come the 62-inch hips!

Told myself I was gonna shine and I walked right past that dang Peeps display. But then I noticed I had THREE Peeps boxes in my cart! Don’t know how they got there, but I left them on the bread rack.

Woohoo!

March 13.

Close call today! Was having coffee with Rita when she pulls out a carton of Peeps and says “Want one?”

Next thing I know, my fingers are closing around one those sinister yellow…. ugh! I was THAT close. One minute I’m giving her the disgusted look; the next minute I’m about to chow down.

My affirmation saved me. Every day I’ll shine Every day I’ll … well, you get the picture. It worked! I put down that Peeps and walked right out.

I’m cancelling all future coffee dates with Rita. After all, what’s more important? An old friendship or the size of my bottom on June 21st?

March 20.

Two more pounds down! Woohoo!

Haven’t written much, mainly because I’m busy dodging those dang Peeps. They’re in all the stores, radiating some kind of irrisistable glow that pulls me in–yesterday I left 58 Peeps cartons on the bread rack!

I told Hubby he has to get the groceries from now on. He’s been acting all strange since Rita called him, but this really set him off. Ha! Like I care! Nothing gets between me and my new body. Every day… and all that.

March 27.

Worst day of my life. Easter Brunch at my mother-in-law’s. I’ve been doing great (down two more pounds, Woohoo!) but then she brought out some of those new pastel-colored Peeps with dessert!

She looked at me kind of funny when I shoved that chair between us. As calmly as I could I said, “Milly, STEP AWAY FROM THE PEEPS.” When she started laughing at me… I knew.

Hubby cut our visit real short. On the way home I tried to tell him she might still LOOK like his mother, but her insides had been replaced by the sugary marshmallow stuff found in all Peeps Pod People. He just kept asking me if I was taking diet pills.

Thank goodness the Peeps breeding season is officially over and life goes back to normal tomorrow. From now on I’ll shine! Woohoo!

March 28.

Evil Peeps!

Still can’t get groceries–the stores are having Peeps sales–will the madness never end?

Hubby’s trying to smooth things over with his mom but if he thinks I will EVER set foot in that Peeps-infested house he is sadly mistaken.

Every day I’ll shine, every day I’ll shine…

March 29.

Writing this while holed up in my Peeps-free closet.

I’m surrounded. The mail carrier delivered a package but it was a trick–he had that Peeps smell all over him!

Told him to get away from me before I stuffed him into the microwave and THEN we’d see what happens when you nuke a Peeps! Ha! The coward ran, like the Peeps Fiend he is! (Woohoo!)

Obviously the Peeps Pod People now know where to find me. Like I care! I’ll look for them! They should tremble in their little Peeps cartons! Soon the whole world will know me as Bonnie, the Peeps Slayer! I’ll make everybody stuff every last Peeps where the sun don’t…

Woohoo!