Update: One lip gloss was recovered from the floor of my car. I thought I had looked. This convinces me that my lip gloss has a life of its own. Another still remains on the missing list. I have my eye on you, Urban Decay lip gloss. I'm onto you.
By now, nearly 30 years ago, my mom already had been at the hospital for hours even though I wouldn't be born for another two days. Poor woman. My mother held out hope for a natural birth with me. Poor, poor lady. Her water broke on Feb. 3. I wasn't born until Feb. 5 in the afternoon when, after two days of labor, nothing could help induce labor and the iron-clad grip I had on not being born. I never dropped. And then, in the end, I wrapped the cord to end myself and there went all my mother's best-laid plans of anything natural. I was an emergency C-section and came out red-faced, ticked off and with a full head of black hair. Angry, angry, angry. It's fun to recall the pained process of my birth during these limbo days leading up to my birthday each year. I told my mom today, "So, by now you were already at the hospital thinking you were going to have some kind of quick labor situation." She managed a grimace.
In other news, at night I've been listening to a free iTunes download I picked up at Starbucks one morning. "Change of Heart" by El Perro del Mar. It's fantastic and perfect before bedtime.
In a not-so bedtime note, in typical Regan fashion I've taken to blitzkreiging the gym again. What went from nearly nonexistent activity but a fair amount of greenway action has turned into daily spin classes with some cardio dance thrown in for good measure. A few weeks ago I purchased a few DVDs for days when I leave work late or don't feel like heading to the gym. A few are Pilates; one is cardio dance; and two others are Jillian Michaels in "shredding," metabolism-busting, fat-burning glory. After a good friend wrote on Facebook yesterday how he recently lost 10 pounds doing Michaels' "Biggest Loser" workout every day, which he noted has "kicked his ass," I figured I'd pop in one of my own Michaels CDs and see what the buzz was about.
That woman is insane. I'm not even convinced she's a woman. I mean, unlike other man-armed, ripped, rather masculine women, there are many aspects of her that are pretty hot in a feminine way. She has a very attractive face in most lights. She has boobs that I'm assuming - perhaps I'm naive - are real. And she has pretty good hair that helps add to her female factor.
But damn it's unnatural. In a 45-minute workout there wasn't a break, a slowdown, a pause for water - absolutely nothing. When she says it's 45 straight minutes of bust-your-heart, can't-breathe cardio, she's not f'ing kidding. My face was purple for more than an hour afterward. My usually-strong legs were weak. I couldn't have done anymore if I'd wanted to. Even her backup workout assistants/partners were sweating it and occasionally looking at the camera like, "Seriously? Don't zoom in on me. How much longer is this damn workout?"
So now I'm spent.
I have the dentist in the morning. I have a distinct feeling that there will be a ruling that the cavities we've been "keeping an eye on" are going to have to be dealt with in the near future. I feel a second wave of extreme makeover: dental edition coming on.
sleep well. xo