As I was hanging up my clothes tonight, my foot nudged something on the floor in my closet. It was square, in a box, in a bag. I looked down to see what it was. "Oh, it's you." I thought. My exercise ball.
I decided to use some of my birthday money from a while ago, like July 17th, to buy an exercise ball. So I could, you know, exercise. Tone my abs. There are many ab-tacular exercise aides out there, but I like the exercise ball. I figure if it doesn't work out, literally, then I don't necessarily have any shameful expensive unused exercise equipment in the garage or being given away at a yard sale. All I really have is a really expensive, really durable beach ball. I can live with that. Of course, I'm living with a really durable beach ball right in the mid section of my person right now, anyway. I plan to get it out soon, maybe I'll put one of those exercise meters on the blog so you can track my progress. Something like the "Crunch Ticker". On second thought, maybe not. Maybe just a picture of us at the beach, with our really expensive, durable beach ball.
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