When Did I Get So Old???

OK. I'm here. In the basement. Barely. Little 19-year-old personal trainer boy kicked my booty. We started our session with his not even being there because of a mixup in schedule times. I was kind of OK with that--ready to go grab my kids out of the childcare area where last night the worker told me (as a girl was complaining of her head itching) that lice is REALLY going around. Eeeeewwww.

Apparently trainer boy was only a phone call away, though, because by the time I warmed up on an elliptical machine, he was there. It started with the typical humiliation: weighing, measuring, body fat callibrating. Then I got a dignity break while he showed me how to use the machines. Then...the booty kicking began. He said it was only 10 minutes. All I know is I was jiggling in places I haven't been aware of for quite some time. Lunges, pushups, lunges with weights, core exercises. Wow. I cheated on the lunges for quite some time before he noticed. I didn't really mean to. It was just a lot easier to put my knee all the way on the floor.

The session ended with a survey about what I typically eat in a day. I wasn't even completely honest. I didn't tell him about the pizza that we have at least once a week (or that I've been having Giordano's nearly every day this week). I tried to sound reasonable because I am reasonable on occasion: Special K for breakfast, turkey and cheese sandwich for lunch, spaghetti for dinner. Then I learned about the Paleo diet (aka caveman diet, hunter-gatherer diet) which does not include cereal, bread, pasta (my breakfast, lunch, and dinner). He gently said no wonder I'm fluffy that I need to change my diet as well as adding vigorous, booty-kicking exercise. *sigh* When did I get old? This is how I've always eaten.

So I might try it, just as soon as the Giordano's pizza and Girl Scout cookies are gone.