Dot, Period, The End

My cousin Chiquita is fond of saying: dot, period, the end. She does not like hemming and hawing and is pretty decisive. I was thinking about Chiquita on the way home.

I'm exhausted. Dot, period, the end.

I went to Kate's class, my Tuesday usual.

I'm exhausting myself with all of this yelling, she said. Then, I told Joy that I'm mean when I get tired. Thanks Joy for not sharing that piece of information with your classmates.

You know how people snort when they really find something amusing? Well, Kate has this sinister saucy laugh and she was doing that tonight. I think she knows when she's delivering a good butt-kicking.

I think the cardio stints were longer because we didn't do anything different --same ol' high knees, fast feet, jumping jacks, lunges, squats, engaging of the abs etc. but I wanted to splay out on the floor (about 15 minutes into class) and take a nap.

It was a technical knockout, y'all, and my pace for the rest of this afternoon is going to be on par with Teddy Pendergrass' Love TKO -- s.l.o.w.



P.S. I stood my thick self (in a sea of petiteness) smack dab in front of the glass door to the classroom since it was the only spot left in class when I squeaked in at 4:59 p.m. I'm becoming less self-conscious and I'm going to count that as a non-scale victory.