Costa Rica Here I Come

Okay, so I'm lazy.  Like really really lazy.  And I have a problem.  I need to get myself into a bikini in time for my Costa Rican adventure at the end of February.  I mean, sure, I could technically wear a bikini right now, but no one needs to see that, especially not me.

So what choice do I have but to get my lazy ass over to the gym that I pay $90 in guilt money a month to never go to?  I have no choice.  Not after I caught a glimpse of what's happening back there while I was in The Gap dressing room yesterday.  How does one bounce back from that kind of crushing blow to the ego?  How??

You don't.  You really just don't.

So I've decided the best way to force myself into physical activity is to write about it.  So here I am writing about my adventures in attempting some kind of normal gym routine that I have to fit into my insanely chaotic schedule while trying to eat healthier and drink less.

(Okay, well, let's not get too crazy, no one's going to be drinking less, that's just absurd.) 

We live in a world of Skinny Jeans and Jeggings and deep fried Oreos, so it's time to take a stand against unsightly flab before it's too late.  And you, my very few readers who are probably related to me or owe me some kind of favor, will get to read all about it.  Here.  In my new blog.