Alright before I start this post let me just get this out of the way. No, I do not need to lose weight. Also being an artist I believe a woman should have a body with curves, it should not consist primarily of only skin and bones. So please no fussing at me about my petite stature and size when I say…I need to exercise.

Really and truly I do need to exercise and I sooooooo do not want to. Being surround by three testosterone filled guys with the need to go, Go, GO all day every day has made it evident to me that I need to get with the program A.S.A.P or be left behind for all eternity. I have delayed the inevitable for as long as I possibly can and get away with it. To be quite honest I have been sitting on my bum and taking it easy for the past nine years. Then again I did have, and exploited to it’s fullest extent, my “Tiny Little Monkey” excuse.

Sorry honey but I can’t spend all day at the beach our Tiny Little  Monkey Two needs a nap, catch ya later.

Gee babe, we were going to hike 5 miles but our Tiny Little Monkey Two could only go one and I had to carry him most of the way. That’s technically 2 miles for me this time. Yeah, Yeah…I know…you biked 20. Whoopdee-doo!

Darlin’, I can’t snowboard from sunup to sundown. Our Tiny Little Monkey Two needs a break, he is falling asleep. Shush M2! Yes I know that you are six now but you are indeed tired and getting ready to fall asleep, trust me. Sush, daddy will hear you.


Those days are over and long gone now folks. Monkey Two has grown up and found his stamina. He can run circles around me, snowboard all day n’ night, stay up late and still get up early without missing a beat. He didn’t realize that in doing so he left his poor mother sitting on the side lines eating his proverbial dust, while taking her much loved excuse for easy living along with him. Yes his mommy may be petite but she has absolutely no stamina or muscle tone. Zero, zilch, nada! I have been fudging my way through these past few years living a care free life of denial.

Why can’t I exercise Peggy Bundy style? You know, not at all, never ever and still look half way decent.

Do you remember the episode where  Peggy wins two weeks worth of personal training in her home from Jim Jupiter “The Strongest Man in Chicago” ? Well in case you don’t let me fill you in a little.

Marcy and Peggy are sitting on the couch barely doing arm curls watching Jim Jupiter’s exercise program as they drool over him. Jim has a drawing for the contest and Peggy wins. Yipee!! Go Peggy! Marcy is hating life as Peggy says: Oh, Marcy. Marcy! I get to see Jim Jupiter do squat thrusts for two whole weeks in my house. Can you believe it?

*This picture cracks me up. The things we used to wear 🙂 *

Al by the way is none to thrilled about good ole buff Jim Jupiter coming to live with them for two weeks, but of course Peggy is on cloud nine. She  has an idea. She is going to seduce the buff Mr. Jim Jupiter. Oh yeah, good idea Peg.

Ha!Right! Jim Jupiter is not having any of  Peggy’s typical slack or lazy habits. Pesky personal trainer’s. There is no sitting down and relaxing in front of the tube for her. Forget about those heels being propped up on the coffee table.  Jim starts whipping her high heeled, leopard leotard wearing, chain smoking bum into shape until she starts to wail and cry in that classic Peggy Bundy style. Peggy of course turns the table on poor Jim. By the end of the show he is a junk food eating sloth who has a heart attack and drops dead during his exercise show.

That would be me right now guys. Crying and wailing some myself at the moment. To say that I once had a similar idea to Peggy’s would be the truth. I thought that I would seduced the buff cute guy and live happily ever after lounging around eating Bon Bon’s and reading books all day while he went and did his extreme thing. It never occurred to me that we would have monkeys who are just as active as he is or that they may actually want me to keep up with them when they got older.

Really. I just assumed they would either be more on the sloth side like me or go off and do mainly guy things with their dad. The “No Girls Allowed Club” would be formed as they got older rather than when they were little. Nope, wrong again Red. They want me tagging right along.

Awww, how sweet my loves. Couldn’t you guys have bought me a book or two instead?

That woman in the mirror we see glimpses of from time to time. The one who was once twenty something, had the stamina to hike all morning, swim all afternoon and still stay up late that night at a concert; she is now looking back at me laughing her silly redhead right off. Running to the end of the street gets me huffing and puffing never mind trying to do what I used to be able to. We  held a parents swim race at the end of the season where the kids were able to time us like we do for them, I did two races and got dizzy. Yep that’s right. I am completely, utterly and sadly out of shape.

Where oh where did all of my muscles go? Those tone thighs and abs? The lungs that never became winded. Why didn’t someone warn me that everything would start heading south in my mid thirties and darn tooten quickly at that? Why didn’t this same person tell me, that also in our mid thirties, we would start referring to parts of our bodies with names that belong in the refrigerator and no where else? Yeesh!

My time is up everyone. My lazy days are over. Boo hoo…whimper, wail, lament! I am so not TICKLED.

Now I know that some of you are thinking to yourselves about how good you feel when you exercise. How it gets you jazzed and energized. When you are done you feel like you could climb Mt. Everest. Not me people. Exercise to me feels like an eighteen wheeler has run me over and proceeded to drag me a couple of miles over a gravel road. I feel like the poor scarecrow hanging there with all of the stuffing knocked out of him. Don’t ask me why I am that way. It is what it is.

Oh well if getting off of my bum and putting in the hours of exercise lets me keep up with my guys and all of their adventures than it is more then worth it. What’s a few heart palpitations, blackouts and drool running out of the side of my head for the monkeys and my surfer. I love them and they do TICKLE me to no end. Bring on the Appalachian Trial monkeys… but could you give me a couple of years?

So ladies, you know who you are, no more it’s too cold to go walking or it’s too hot. We are making an exercise plan and setting it in stone…pumice stone maybe? Just kidding 🙂

I’m coming Jillian! I’m coming, quit yelling at me. I am trying to finish my Bon Bon’s. Pesky personal trainers!

Tickled Red

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