Really Dedicated or Mentally Impaired

Based on how my knees felt after my walk this morning, I'm going with the latter.  It's been several days since I've been swimming (my normal mode of exercise), since my son split his arm open, preventing him, meaning us, from being able to go to the pool.  I felt an emotion that I've experienced a hundred times, usually after I've hurled obscenities at my children or downed an entire pint of Ben & Jerry's Red Velvet Cake ice cream in one sitting, but never...NEVER...in relation to exercise.  The tides are turning children.  Pigs are flying and it's raining toads, because I actually felt guilty that I had not exercised in several days, except for the spectacle I displayed on Saturday evening, which totally counts, based on the bucket of sweat that poured from my body.  Anywho, I guilted myself into walking this morning, despite the fact that my knees have still not totally recovered.  They hurt a bit at first, but then they went numb, which I assumed was a good thing.  20 minutes later, the feeling returned, and the throbbing started, but I was so far into the walk it didn't matter.  I still had to make it home.  So, I hobbled down the street House-style and limped up the stairs.  They're recovering now, though, and unless my kneecap shoots out of my body at some point, I plan to keep doing this, since I think the fundamental issue with dancing was that my knees weren't strong enough to support my weight.

While my knees were burning, it dawned on me that I didn't look like Elaine at all on Saturday.  I can't believe I forgot about this, but this is for sure a much better comparison:

Also, for anyone who cares, this is the BEST workout song ever.  It's probably about getting stoned or smashed or something, but every time it plays on my Ipod, I can't help but kick it up.

Dancing Queen

On Saturday, for a while I forgot that I'm a chunky 33-year-old mother of three, and dropped it like it's hot at a club with my neighbor.  It's been a long, long, LONG time since I shook my money maker, and that was many pounds ago.  Despite this fact, I got all dolled up in a borderline-slutty new outfit and put my inhibitions in the closet for the evening and really enjoyed myself.  So much so, that I didn't feel my knees screaming for me to stop.  I'm not sure when it happened, but at some point, all of my killer moves did enough damage to my knees that I could barely even walk yesterday.  I consulted my at home physician (WebMd), and concluded I had given myself Patellofamoral Pain Syndrome, commonly known as "runner's knee".  This is especially hilarious, given the fact that I can't even run a 10th of a mile without having an asthma attack. I'm better today, but my ego is seriously wounded at being reminded that I'm neither as young or as thin as I used to be.  All the more reason to continue working towards getting in shape.

How I think I looked:

How I really looked: