Day One.

As I sit here typing this today, my arms feel leaden, my chest muscles hurt and my back is achy.

I am not sick. I was not in some sort of freak accident which effected only my upper torso.

No, I feel this way because last night, Brian and I chose to do this:

An hour of self induced pain and torture.

A friend at work ordered the entire series and is letting us do a "trial run" before we fork out a crap load of money and buy it ourselves.

We have been talking about how we are both getting chubby and need to do something about it (usually discussed over a dinner of pasta and steak, while we thoughtfully sip our alcoholic drinks).

Now, we are not necessarily "fat" (I can still fit in some of my size 6 clothes, thank you very much. I just prefer not to wear them in public...), but I, personally, would like my clothes to fit better and feel more comfortable wearing a bathing suit.

Since I'll be 40 in.... um, let's just say "soon" (a-hem).....I figured we needed to get our bulbous butts in gear.

Last night was Chest and Back - which consisted of 54 minutes of push ups, pulls ups and lots of funky exercises involving a giant rubber band.

The band only snapped and hit me in the face like, two or three times, so you know, that's good.

I managed to make it through the exercises, with a fairly passable push up, while Olivia lounged on the couch watching us strain, red faced, to do One More Push Up, and telling me that I wasn't doing it right.

(Thanks. Way to be supportive, kid).

I'm glad we haven't actually spent the money on this, because it is hard core and is kicking our asses. We may decide by Friday that we actually don't mind being chubby, out of shape, middle aged parents.

There's a lot to be said for pasta, steak and alcohol. It's certainly better than an hour of someone telling me to BRING IT as I pant and lay on the floor in exhaustion, while the dogs whine and sniff every inch of me trying to determine whether or not I am still in the land of the living.

Tonight is "Plyometrics".

I have no idea what that means, but I'm pretty sure I'll be begging someone to kill me in the first 15 minutes.