Everybody knows one. That previously well-minded friend who suddenly went crazy loco and committed to some crazy work-out program like Insanity or P90X. I've been married to one of those fools for years now. Nick has an on-again, off-again relationship with Tony Horton (and more recently Shaun T), defined mostly by the state of his (bum) knee. So when P90X3 came out, it went straight on the Amazon wish list.
Where my mother saw it.
And bought it for him as a Christmas gift.
Sigh. Big, long sigh.
Why the sigh you ask? Because this time he wants to really do it. The whole 9 yards, P90X style. The rigid schedule. The crazy moves and millions of crunches. And, most importantly... the diet. Now he doesn't want to waste money on the supplements, thank goodness. But he does want to commit to 90 days of eating only healthy things. I asked him about cake for my birthday next month, and he said there could be a slice of cake but not a whole cake, which makes him an insane person.
The only one crazier than my darling husband is me because I've agreed to do this with him. It's a long story related to many things, including my post-Archer wrinkly belly skin and a small-group conversation about how Nick and I somewhere along the way stopped doing things for each other that we didn't really like but used to do anyway just to make the other person happy.
Kick-off is tomorrow, and can I just tell you the culinary horizon is bleak. Lots of kale, unbuttered sweet potatoes, and lean chicken breasts are in my future. Nick even bought me a Keurig for Christmas that I apparently won't get to use for 3 months. In fact, as I write this, I'm drinking my farewell cup of hot chocolate. So please don't offer me a Rice Krispy treat or sweet tea or heaven forbid a brownie because I have to say "no" for 90 days. Just stick it in the freezer and save it for me, will ya?
w for the win
10 years ago
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