Activities for her

On Sunday I time-traveled to the days of neon leotards and big perms. It was pretty rad.

 Fact: My last car was a Honda Civic named Jane Honda.

Jazzercise is totally still a thing and people get really pumped about it. I've never felt so...female. The instructor's perkier-than-shit attitude was no match for my piss-poor mood about this damned "cleanse", though. Nerky wants needs a motherfucking cheeseburger.

I don't do well with eliminating foods from my diet, because as soon as you tell me I can't have something I immediately want it. Typical woman. Maybe I do fit in at Jazzercise class.

It's not that I eat all this shit that's bad for me all the time or I don't want the healthy food, I just hate being told what to do. (Most of the time.)

The good news? As of this weekend, I'm a motherfucking size 4. Not like, "oops this was mislabeled, but it says 4 so Ima buy it", but actually a 4. 

Coming from a size 14, that's a pretty big deal. 


  1. Damn girl, you fine. A size 4? Totally jelly because I have a shit ton of clothes in a size 4 from a couple years ago that I'd love to fit back into. One size away dammit. One fucking size.

    Oh, and random fact about me. I used to be a Jazzercise instructor. Hellz yeah! Grapevine!

  2. Wow! I think size 4 would be the holy grail for me! That's so great!

  3. UMMMMM THAT'S A HUGE DEAL! Size 4?!?! I'm so jealous!!!!!

  4. Size 4?! That's soooo awesome! Proof hard work pays off!! You go girl!!

  5. Hooray for size 4! You own that shit.

    I wonder if Jazzercise feels jipped that it's being left behind to eat the dust of Zumba.


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