stop the insanity (or, our bedroom smells like a locker room)

Do you remember Susan Powter, the lady from the Stop the Insanity diet infomercials in the '90s?  Well, she's bat-shit crazy.  I know this because I saw her speak once, in Ann Arbor, MI, circa 2003.  It was hard to say who was more offended, Zoloft-using me, or my fat then-girlfriend sitting next to me, as Powter told the audience (while sort of leaping around the stage like a Muppet frog) that anti-depressants and ice cream cones were tools of the patriarchy, and we had to quit consuming them immediately in order to prepare for the revolution.  She then went on to say that if we saw a feminist eating an ice cream cone, it was our DUTY to run up to her and wrench the ice cream cone in all its delicious glory from the poor woman's hands.  Or something like that -- "delicious glory" is probably my turn of phrase, not hers, but she did say the part about stealing the ice cream.  FOR REALS.  Needless to say, after that was over, we up and went for some Ben & Jerry's.  Ice cream cones with men's names on them -- take that, Sue Pow.

I think it is because of that experience that every time I think about not doing my Insanity workout DVDs (which I received from my dad for my 30th birthday), I picture her scary face yelling at me to STOP THE INSANITY.  And that is really all it takes to get my ass off the couch, just out of spite.  If she is telling me to stop doing something, I'm doing it, goddamnit.

At least, until today.  After three full weeks of Insanity, for the first time, I REALLY did not want to work out.  If I am honest, I guess I am surprised that it took me this long to hit a wall.  I was just feeling so. freaking. lazy. today.  I was looking for any excuse possible not to work out.  First, I complained to Kathy a little bit about being tired.  Then, I went downstairs, and discovered the nanny and B, who is home from school today with pink eye, watching a movie about robots (and, therefore, occupying the DVD player).  Finally, when I couldn't procrastinate any more, I sucked it up, tied my sneakers, and put the stupid video on the DVD player in our bedroom, and commenced jumping around. 

I have to say, I'm glad I did it.  There is some sense of accomplishment in working out when really you would rather just go for Ben & Jerry's.  Although I'm not going to lie, I have been eating an abnormal amount of ice cream ever since starting this workout routine.  Specifically, I have eaten Carvel ice cream 4 times, Sweet Licks once, and recently came home from the grocery store with some tasty full-fat mint chocolate chip.  I think it must be the Susan Powter-related motivation? 

So there I was, congratulating myself, about to get in the shower, feeling all fit and glow-ey, when Kathy stuck her head in the bathroom.  "Our bedroom smells like a freaking locker room."  She has a really sensitive nose, as it turns out, and it was true, it kind of did smell like a locker room in there -- but only because my disgusting towel was draped over the footboard of the bed, not because I sweated all over the place while I was working out in there today (gross).  But I just shrugged, and contemplated the mint chocolate chip that's in the freezer.