Today I got up about 2 minutes before my alarm went off. I was up and getting dressed and ready for the gym very quickly. Once there, I did 20 minutes on the elliptical at lvl 11, and I'm *almost* to 2 miles. I had 1.9 on the distance reading... I've *got* to get to two miles. I want it really bad right now for some reason. I'm thinking that tomorrow I go up to level 12.
I followed that up with deadlifts, high-rows and mid-rows for my back. My shirt was back to the familiar and appreciated dark grey as I was just pouring sweat. I guess that's gross? I don't know. I mean, if I thought about some strange fat dude sweating I'd probably change the mental subject, but when it's *me* sweating, it's a good thing. It makes me happy. It lets me know that I'm doing my job well.
Today I'm wearing the Worst Pants in the World again. Seriously, these things aren't getting it done for me. I've *got* to get rid of them. Thankfully I get my first paycheck on Friday, so I'm looking forward to having a bit of cash in my wallet again.
Speaking of pants, I was on the phone with my mom last night. She said that my dad's been working out and is wearing size 38 jeans again, and when I come down for Xmas I can have his 40s. What??? I don't *want* his 40s! I started to tell her this, and she tried to cut me off, talking about not wasting, blah blah blah... First off, c'mon. Seriously? Not waste? I've never worn that dude's leftover clothes. And now you want me to wear my 57-year-old dad's jeans? No. Then you want me to wear 40s when I've worked down from a 46 to a 38 since July? No! No means no! Outrageous. :) She's got good intentions, but seriously. I don't need those things. And I won't wear that size again. Well, unless I have to buy slacks. Those fuckers are always higher in number.
If she makes me take those jeans back with me, I'm going to light them on fire when I step off the plane. Believe it.