This was the final week of the twelve week long torture that was the Bikini Body workouts. It appears that I won't have to be doing the bathroom runway walk of shame after all. It will definitely be the "eat your heart out, loser ex-boyfriend" sexiness strut.
It was a lot of huffing and puffing, bitching and moaning, and cursing out the trainer with her perfect Samoan Barbie doll body - the Bitch!!! She, and her, "Come on, girls...you can do a hundred more squats. I know you can! Come on!!! Ass to grass! Ass to grass!"
Ugh...f@#k you! and your rock-hard abs, and show-horse legs!
Okay, I just had to get that out of my system. Passive-aggressive, much? F#@k you, too, Self! And the old boyfriend - for good measure! Just... F#@K. Everybody. OKAY!?!
Anyway, I was out for a five mile run at the crack of dawn this morning. Because. I. Felt. Like. It. Who does that!?! And, what is wrong with me? I ruined a perfectly good day to just stay in bed and be lazy, by being motivated to go run? In the cold? Before sunrise? What?!?
So, I'm running and running, and actually enjoying it, when all of a sudden Adnan Sami and his call to prayer, the "Azaan," comes on my MP3. Totally transporting me to the first time I met the old boyfriend when the call to prayer unexpectedly rang on his alarm, which he had forgotten to reset. He scrambled to shut it off, but it was too late. That beautifully haunting sound will forever stay with me, reminding me of him and all of our theological conversations about things we don't really understand. Why the Azaan popped up on my playlist at that moment - I really don't know. I was in the zone, running to "Work It Out" with Pitbull and Lil Jon... "Go ahead, girl, work it out. So sexy, so fine, so fiesty." Yes, all of that and more! And then...needle scratching on vinyl...scrrreeeech...ugh! Complete hard-off!!! F#@k you, old boyfriend!!!
Why do we women do that to ourselves? Resurrect the past like we can make a future of it? Clearly things didn't work out with the ex. That's why he's an EX! Only, with this one, we never broke up. I just got sidetracked into prison. But, it's not as if he's been breaking down prison walls to come and see me. So, get over it, Alexa. A better man will come around. Must. Be. Patient.
OMG! Just as I punctuated that last sentence... you won't believe it, but the Azaan just came on...again! What the f#@k? I was just shaking my butt in my chair to Pitbull's "El Taxi," as I'm writing this. I can't explain this. Maybe there's a connection with Pitbull and God? I'm not even gonna try.
Okay, let's move on and talk about my banging body that I've been working so hard to attain. I was getting so discouraged because I'm not long, sleek and skinny with no appetite. Just the opposite. I'm short, curvy, and I like to eat. More of a JLo type than a Jennifer Lawrence. Then I found myself watching the Univision Latino news report where the women all have bodies like mine, and they dress the way I like to dress - you know, dresses way too short and way too tight, full-on makeup, hair extended to the butt. Then I thought...hmmmm...I'm gonna be alright, after all.
Sometimes, being in prison, it's hard to remember just how beautiful and sexy we are. Our prison sanitation worker uniforms don't do much for our self-esteem. At least they're a deep green which match perfectly with the color of my eyes. That's the only good thing I can say about this outfit. Well, that, and our butts look great in these pants. Someone at design goofed with this one. I don't think they expected our butt cakes to look so yummy in these ugly green pants. Suckers!
I'm taking the next month to focus on diet and nutrition, then it's on to round two of the Bikini Body workouts, along with the Victoria's Secret leg workout. Then, after that, it will be time to bite the bullet and take some prison pictures so that I can have them uploaded on here. I had been trying to keep myself from doing it. I mean, who wants to remember prison, right?
Ah, well, yeah...maybe not. I don't particularly want to find my prison photos in the family album years down the line. I'll be like, "And this was your grandma, when she was in prison..." So, not cute. We'll leave that for the Teresa G's of the world. Perhaps, I'll dig up the old mug shots and post those instead. I can't help that those are out there. Freedom of Information Act and all, you know?
Ok, thank you for checking in. It's coffee time for me.
It was a lot of huffing and puffing, bitching and moaning, and cursing out the trainer with her perfect Samoan Barbie doll body - the Bitch!!! She, and her, "Come on, girls...you can do a hundred more squats. I know you can! Come on!!! Ass to grass! Ass to grass!"
Ugh...f@#k you! and your rock-hard abs, and show-horse legs!
Okay, I just had to get that out of my system. Passive-aggressive, much? F#@k you, too, Self! And the old boyfriend - for good measure! Just... F#@K. Everybody. OKAY!?!
Anyway, I was out for a five mile run at the crack of dawn this morning. Because. I. Felt. Like. It. Who does that!?! And, what is wrong with me? I ruined a perfectly good day to just stay in bed and be lazy, by being motivated to go run? In the cold? Before sunrise? What?!?
So, I'm running and running, and actually enjoying it, when all of a sudden Adnan Sami and his call to prayer, the "Azaan," comes on my MP3. Totally transporting me to the first time I met the old boyfriend when the call to prayer unexpectedly rang on his alarm, which he had forgotten to reset. He scrambled to shut it off, but it was too late. That beautifully haunting sound will forever stay with me, reminding me of him and all of our theological conversations about things we don't really understand. Why the Azaan popped up on my playlist at that moment - I really don't know. I was in the zone, running to "Work It Out" with Pitbull and Lil Jon... "Go ahead, girl, work it out. So sexy, so fine, so fiesty." Yes, all of that and more! And then...needle scratching on vinyl...scrrreeeech...ugh! Complete hard-off!!! F#@k you, old boyfriend!!!
Why do we women do that to ourselves? Resurrect the past like we can make a future of it? Clearly things didn't work out with the ex. That's why he's an EX! Only, with this one, we never broke up. I just got sidetracked into prison. But, it's not as if he's been breaking down prison walls to come and see me. So, get over it, Alexa. A better man will come around. Must. Be. Patient.
OMG! Just as I punctuated that last sentence... you won't believe it, but the Azaan just came on...again! What the f#@k? I was just shaking my butt in my chair to Pitbull's "El Taxi," as I'm writing this. I can't explain this. Maybe there's a connection with Pitbull and God? I'm not even gonna try.
Okay, let's move on and talk about my banging body that I've been working so hard to attain. I was getting so discouraged because I'm not long, sleek and skinny with no appetite. Just the opposite. I'm short, curvy, and I like to eat. More of a JLo type than a Jennifer Lawrence. Then I found myself watching the Univision Latino news report where the women all have bodies like mine, and they dress the way I like to dress - you know, dresses way too short and way too tight, full-on makeup, hair extended to the butt. Then I thought...hmmmm...I'm gonna be alright, after all.
Sometimes, being in prison, it's hard to remember just how beautiful and sexy we are. Our prison sanitation worker uniforms don't do much for our self-esteem. At least they're a deep green which match perfectly with the color of my eyes. That's the only good thing I can say about this outfit. Well, that, and our butts look great in these pants. Someone at design goofed with this one. I don't think they expected our butt cakes to look so yummy in these ugly green pants. Suckers!
I'm taking the next month to focus on diet and nutrition, then it's on to round two of the Bikini Body workouts, along with the Victoria's Secret leg workout. Then, after that, it will be time to bite the bullet and take some prison pictures so that I can have them uploaded on here. I had been trying to keep myself from doing it. I mean, who wants to remember prison, right?
Ah, well, yeah...maybe not. I don't particularly want to find my prison photos in the family album years down the line. I'll be like, "And this was your grandma, when she was in prison..." So, not cute. We'll leave that for the Teresa G's of the world. Perhaps, I'll dig up the old mug shots and post those instead. I can't help that those are out there. Freedom of Information Act and all, you know?
Ok, thank you for checking in. It's coffee time for me.
