Ow. Ow. Ow.

The past week is fading, slowly but surely.  Drowning my sorrows in Law and Order marathons and donut holes definitely helped.  But now, the big question remains...what do I need to do to get myself knocked up?  Besides sex like bunnies, I mean.

The painful truth is staring me right in the face.  I need to work my body into shape again.  Admittedly, I've let myself go a little...or a LOT.  It's been a while since I've fit into my skinny jeans, and it's often that I cringe when I look in my closet for something decent to wear that won't make me look like Mrs. Roper in a muu muu.

This is the worst part about aging.  The way your body changes for the worse is somewhat cruel, even by Catholic school nun standards.  I'm missing those once familiar perky parts of my body that used to be suspended by invisible lines held up by angels.  My butt is somewhere around my ankles and my chest has started migrating towards my belly button.  Not cool.

However, I do feel better and look better when I am in shape.  I need to get back into my old self, and my very pricey trainer and uber-fancy gym is going to help me get there.  I've been working out non-stop since summer started, and I'm starting to feel the burn.

It's actually more like I'm starting to feel serious pain.  I hope this fetus-to-be appreciates the luxury accommodations I'm renovating for him/her when he/she moves in.