Jillian Michaels is a monster...

So, I've been attempting (half-assed) to get into shape recently. My work did a "Biggest Loser" challenge that both my parents participated in and ended up losing over 10 pounds. Now my mother weighs as much as I do, and that made me sad.

Now don't get me wrong, my mom is smokin' hot. If she still colored her hair people would think she is my sister. My mother is also *almost* 50 and has given birth to two children. I am 23 and have given birth to zero children; logic says I should be in much better shape than I am.

The realization that I am in sad shape actually came last year when my family, friends and I did the Warrior Dash, a 3 mile obstacle course that whooped my ass. Not only did my 52 year old dad with a torn meniscus beat me by over 30 minutes, but an 80 year old woman blew my time out of the water. Ouch. It was time to get my ass off the couch.

So my dearest mother, in an effort to help me in my quest to not be such a sad sack, bought me Jillian Michaels' Ripped in 30. The workout is only 20 minutes and starts off easier and progresses each week so I figured this could be my transition into the world of fitness. Boy was I in for a surprise...

I thought I was going to die. I had to stop multiple times. My face was bright red. I was covered in sweat. And the entire time, Jillian Michaels kept telling me that if 300-400 pound people (from the real Biggest Loser) could do these exercises, I could do it. It's gonna be a loooong 30 days.

You, Ms. Michaels, are an evil monster. An evil monster that is going to make me look like a super model...or at least make it possible for me to keep up with an 80 year old woman at the Warrior Dash this year.

Steph After Oral Surgeon

I decided it would be funny to try and write a blog after my visit to the oral surgeon this morning to have all my wisdom teeth ripped out, you know, because all the fancy drugs I got would made me loopy. Sadly, by the time I got home all those mind-altering drugs had worn off and now I am just a cranky, sore chipmunk-face. Dammit, I'll write something anyways.

I would like to say that I probably had one the best oral surgeons you could ask for. He knew I was super nervous (obviously, because I was crying like a big ol' baby), but he came in the room, handed me a kleenex and said it was perfectly normal for me to be so freaked out. He asked if I had any questions and I only had one thing to say; "I just don't want to remember anything that is about to happen." "None of it?" "Not a single thing." "Well I can make that happen." And he did. They gave me a nice dose of versed through the IV and hooked me up to some gas...BOOM. Next thing I know, I wake up with a bunch of gauze in my mouth and the nurse asking if I was doing alright. It wasn't bad at all...you know, other than feeling like my face is 10 times bigger than it should be.

Right now, I feel like some one punched me in the face and my tongue feels like sandpaper. Which is a lovely combination of misery. I just can't wait to get all this damn gauze out so I can close my mouth all the way and get to the fun part...PUDDING, and percocet of course.

P.S. If there are typos, I'm tired, and don't care.