There once was a time when I exercised pretty regularly. I gave my treadmill a good solid workout a few times a week. Then I’d get knocked down with a stuffy nose and sinus pain (thank you chronic sinusitis) or have trouble breathing (thank you asthma) and use it as an excuse to stop exercising. Of course, once you get out of the habit it’s so hard to get back on track.

At some point last fall I fell off the exercise wagon right in to a field filled with Halloween candy, Thanksgiving turkey and stuffing, and Christmas cookies, glazed ham, and mashed potato volcanoes filled with tablespoons of butter. [All of a sudden my mouth is watering.] I kept saying “I’m going to work out starting tomorrow. Right after I eat this Hostess cream filled Christmas tree cakes. Yes, the whole box.” [And there's the drool.] But then the next day I’d be tired so I’d take a little nap with a pre-nap appetizer of Yogurt Dots. [What? Yogurt's good for you.]

So, shockingly, my pants have started to get a little snug and my twin skin (I will continue to blame it on twin skin instead of fat for as long as I can keep up the rouse) has started to hang over my pants just a little bit further. I’m way too cheap to buy new clothes so I need to take care of this before my jeans start to look like their owned by the Incredible Hulk. And that start day was today.

After work I jumped on the treadmill. My old friend. Who I haven’t seen for ages. I literally had to dust it. [Of course, by dusting I mean I turned it on high and let it shake the dust off on it's own.] I put on my old tennies and took a puff of my inhaler before jumping on.

The first several minutes went well. Of course I was just warming up and was walking at a slow crawl, but it was going well nonetheless. Then I got interrupted, which totally threw off my vibe. But I got back on and pushed on.

Fifteen minutes later I was starting to get a cramp in my side. I was sweating like a pig. And I was starting to wheeze. How freaking out of shape am I? Apparently very.

Somewhere around the 25 minute mark I was walking in time to Red Hot Chili Peppers; Suck My Kiss when all of a sudden I wanted to beat Anthony Kiedis silly with a Blood Sugar Sex Magik album. Anthony shouldn’t take it personally though. I was just at that point in the workout. You know that point. The point where you want to give up, jump in your car and go in search of some skinny bitch with six-pack abs and a tight ass so you can tackle her and force feed her some Twinkies. Clearly I needed Jillian Michaels standing over me screaming “Unless you puke, faint or die, keep going!”

At the end of my 30 minute run brisk walk I looked down to see how many calories I had burned. Two hundred and 18 measly calories. Seriously?!? That’s it? I spent 30 minutes walking my butt off for freaking 218 calories. You know how long it takes to eat 218 calories? About 75 seconds. One bite if it’s something creamy and sugary and delicious. Two hundred and 18 flippin calories. This working out crap sucks.

As you know, today was a momentous day as our first black President was sworn in to office. I’ve heard a lot of people (white people, of course) complain that too much emphasis was put on the fact that Obama is black (or half black as some pointed out). It doesn’t matter what color he is, they say. He is the people’s President. The President of Hope and Change.

And while all of that is true, the fact of the matter is, he is our first black President. You just had to look at the faces of the people in the crowd, especially the black people, to know how significant that is. There are people alive today who listened to their grandparents tell stories about working in the fields as slaves. Schools and transportation and restaurants and more were still segregated in my parents lifetime…just a decade before I was born. There are people today who still face prejudice just because of the color of their skin.

But the majority looked past all that and elected our first black President. Today black parents can tell their children, “You can be anything you want to be. You can even be President.” And now they really believe it. Obama even touched on it in his speech when he said, “why a man whose father less than sixty years ago might not have been served at a local restaurant can now stand before you to take a most sacred oath.”

So while the color of his skin shouldn’t define Obama or his presidency, it is something to be celebrated. It says a lot about how far we’ve come as people. And as a nation. And now that’s he’s officially President we can start celebrating all that he’s going to accomplish for our nation and all that he’s going to inspire us to do to help our nation.

Speaking of the inauguration, the kids all got to watch it on TV at school (cause the weather finally calmed down enough for them to return to school). After Caleb and I were reading together tonight I said, “Did you watch the inauguration today?”

Caleb gave me a weird look and said, “umm…no.”

I laughed. “Did you watch something on TV at school today?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“What did you watch?”

“The President talked.”

“That was the inauguration,” I said.

Caleb raised his eyebrow at me. I’m pretty sure he thinks inauguration is some kind of dirty word.

Just after the holidays a friend from high school updated her Facebook status to state she was looking for fun, social ways to get moving and get rid of the holiday bulge. I was all in. I have a bulge I’d like to get rid of and I’m all about social. I love any excuse I can find to get out of the house and hang with some girlfriends. Even if that excuse is exercise.

Turns out her idea of “fun and social” is a hip-hop dance class for women over 30. Anybody who has ever seen me dance (and there are very, very few of you) know I can’t dance to save my life. Heck I can’t even follow along to workout tapes I’m so flippin’ uncoordinated.

But I do like to have fun and what better way to have fun then to make a complete ass out of yourself in front of 10 to 15 other hot 30+ mamas? My friend wanted a class with mamas over 30 because she didn’t want to have to sweat and possibly complain about a bum knee in front of some 21-year-old who still had perky boobs and zero stretch marks. Us mommies, who have to wear a sports bra for fear of taking an eye out with our swinging breastfeeding titties, must stick together.

So yesterday was our first class. I threw on my favorite pair of yoga pants that so nicely show off my love handles and full thighs and a sports bra to keep my girls up in the chest area rather than tucked in to my waist band. And, even though I could have totally used the flurries that were falling as an excuse to wimp out and skip class, I drove clear across town to shake my booty to a little Britney Spears.

Our instructor is this really cute model choreographer (who is going to try out for So You Think You Can Dance this year so I will totally point him out when he makes it on the show). When he did the choreography he looked totally hip and cool. When I did it I looked like a stiff old lady who just threw out her hip.

But I made it through the whole hour of class without falling on my ass or accidentally kicking anybody. I consider that a success.

Next week we are going to stop at the Mexican restaurant before class for a margarita. Or two. That should make class a little more interesting.

I’m giving away a bundle of SIX workout DVDs over at Weary Parent.

There’s lots of good news on the internet this week. I love good news.

They removed Peyton’s port. She beat that cancer. Yeah Peyton!

Kira is having a girl and we get to see her with that new fangled 3D ultrasound thing. They didn’t have that when I was pregnant. It’s so cool.

Jessica finally had her fourth baby. A beautiful baby boy. Congrats!

Jenn’s family adopted a new furbaby…Harley’s little brother. I’m so happy for you guys!

And in other news…

Lee and I both recently had a credit card cancelled for inactivity. Will it affect our FICO score?

Is Twitter making blogging obsolete? I hope not because I’m a horrible Twitter-er.

Apparently a crack addiction is no joking matter.

While Lotus is away her guest bloggers will play. That is some funny shit.