The hot flashes have begun. I had them when I was pregnant, but it was a growing uterus and not one putting up a closed for business sign that was to blame. Either way it's a hormonal shift, but this one makes me feel a tad prematurely aged.
So like my secret girlcrush and snob extraordinaire Gwyneth, I've enlisted the help of Tracy Anderson to make me feel more 38 than 58. I worked out this morning, in my home no less, for the first time in years and will no doubt have a big pain in the arse (and abs, and arms, and calves) to show for it tomorrow. Perhaps not wise to begin this course of action a mere three days before round four, but it's the first time I've felt up and at 'em enough to get moving in any way beyond a long walk or bike ride.
So while my ladybits shut down (forever? for now?) I will recapture my yute in other ways - with arms like Madonna to punch the c-word in the other c-word.