Bam! 2016 is on, bruthas and sistahs.
It’s only Wednesday, and I’ve already worked my ass off this week. Rest assured I’m not super-happy about that – I was sooooo into the cozy, end-of-year do-nothingness (and the Champs + Pina Coladas) of the past few weeks – but what are ya gonna do? Sadly, those bills won’t pay themselves.
When I’m not peck peck pecking away at my keyboard, I can mostly be found at my trusty Racquet Club, building my game brick by gruesome brick. Last night at the Women’s Clinic – although I totally just blogged that I was going to stop being intimidated by the better players who show up for this weekly bloodfest – I was utterly mortified when my pal Dina and I got sequestered to work with one of the coaches all by ourselves.
Dina and Dana: Newly Bounced from the Big Kids’ Table
I’ll spare you the mechanics of my bad attitude and temper tantrum around this sequestering (I know, I know; I am perpetually, eternally two years old), to bring you some incredibly awesome news:
All my recent intense tennising is doing wonders for my waistline.
I haven’t been eating especially well, and cocktailed up a storm on our Xmas jaunt to Key West, but my weight is the lowest it’s been since Town & Country sent me to that starvation spa in Texas and I literally wasn’t allowed food for three days.
Sidebar: I just – 11 seasons into it – finally started watching KUWTK, and I’m blown away by how frequently Mama Kris says “literally” in categorically non-literal situations. Like she’ll say: “I literally peed my pants when I saw Caitlyn for the first time,” when we viewers know her tighty whities are in fact as dry as the desert. What gives? Isn’t she a kloset genius?
Anway, during one of my crack-of-dawn slurp coffee and scour the Interweb sessions this week, I was reading a piece – I think on HuffPo, I’ll get you the link later – about the workout habits of extremely successful people. And lumped into that un-lumpy lot was Condé über-czarina Anna Wintour.
I knew Anna was a hardcore tennis nut, but evidently, at least according to this article, she plays an hour every day. That’s a lot, and probably a key reason she’s as thin as a whippet.
I have to hightail it to Bible Study, and then the Dali Museum, and then food-shopping for tonight’s dinner – so I gotta get a move on and stop blogging (and maybe even bragging) about the fact that logging all that court time is helping me look halfway decent in my skinny jeans.
Notice I didn’t say I look incredible in my skinny jeans; incredible is probably a lot further down the road for me. Well, more precisely, maybe seven more pounds down the road for me. I’ve been wanting to see 100 on the scale for a verrrrrrrry long time. Like literally a hundred years.