Angry Ego Sprite

This is my second week of weight training in the gym with a buddy.

Basically, we pant for three miles on the elliptical first, b.s. over the water fountain for a few minutes, then hit the weight room to make faces I wouldn't even want my husband to see.

A trainer helps us out on Thursdays.  She is a triathlete and has the lack of body fat to prove it.  She had my respect based on her quadriceps alone.  Girl can rock a workout skirt.  My goal is to simply not have to wear a workout skirt as a bathing suit this summer.  From the way it feels as of today, she is the person to get me there.

It feels great to be doing something good for my body again.  As moms we give to our children so much of ourselves that we are left muttering profanities at our mildewed dish-sponge as a result.

When our energy flows away from ourselves, I believe we anger the little Ego Sprite within that grows sharp horns and fiery eyes that don't take "maybe later," for an answer.

These feisty mates know what's best for us so they shove apples in our face instead of peanut butter and jelly crusts.  They toss us in the shower in the morning then apply make-up to our aging eyelids.  They scream in their wicked sopranos,  "Zose faded black yoga pants you vant to vear because your jeans are so eechy?  Yess?  Vell, zey make you look like zee chalkboard butt." Heh Heh Heh.

Shut it, Ego Sprite.

I hear you.  I get it.  I'm on it.

I'm taking care of myself now so you can just pipe down there Sister.

We will be needing your services soon enough.  Spring wardrobe overhaul. Ten pair of khaki capri pants and multiple checkered(?!?)sleeveless shirts.  Perhaps an Old (ret.) Navy dress that hasn't been worn since 1999 for good measure.

But now I'm just showing off.

Let's just say you von't be disappointed.