twitching

I've been babysitting some pets for a few days. The dog of the house, Sweetie Pie, gets two walks a day, 30 minutes a shot. It's been good for me, too! So, I decided to keep it up and went for a walk this morning. I was wearing the softest tee shirt in the whole world. I love it. But it IS rather form-fitting. And I'm kind of voluptuous right now. Too voluptuous. Both Mr. H. and I think this. Hence, the walking regimine.

Good lord, I'm out of shape. And shy. I felt like I was walking around as nekkid as Lady Godiva, without the curtain of hair or gorgeous horse to distract the eye. But I didn't realize I'd feel that way until I was well down the block and I knew if I turned around to change (and change into WHAT?!? All I have are tee shirts, and it's hot and humid outside), I'd stay inside, playing Crush the Castle.

Geez, it was revelatory. I bought these shoes that are supposed to help you get more of a work out from your walk and they really do work. They make it harder, make you work harder. Weirdly, I can feel the effort in my inner thighs, which I've never experienced from walking before. It's a good thing, but I feel so clumsy and awkward and huge. I hate joggers. As I plod down the sidewalk, leverageing my full-figured self through the quiet neighborhood streets, they glide past, smooth, sleek and graceful, swift and sweat-free. I hate them. I'm still not getting those endorphins one is supposed to get from working out. They are elusive.

My muscles are twitching like mad now. This is good. I PLAN on continuing doing this twice a day, just as if I were walking a dog. Gosh, I wish I had a dog.