Tamilee Webb, You Evil, Evil Woman, You

Dear Tamilee,

I had forgotten how scary you are. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad for the workout. Sort of. Channel 180-something on the digital cable is Exercise On Demand, yet further justification for my "luxury" of a cable bill: I don't pay for a gym membership, I just change the channel and pick one of the workouts, all in the convenience of my living room. But Tamilee, I haven't worked out regularly since like, June. Since morning sickness and pregnancy in general made me allergic to exercise. I mean, that's the last thing any sane person wants to do while pregnant, right? You wear sweatpants a lot, sure, but you're not actually supposed to sweat. Your body's doing enough work, manufacturing a human; therefore, you shouldn't be expected to expend more energy than it takes to manage the remote control. (And, on some nights, your husband should be responsible for even that.)

So, Tamilee, after months and months, I'm trying to ease back into the world of fairly regular exercise. But you have no mercy, do you. Pain does not exist in your dojo, does it. All I did was one flipping 10-minute session with you this morning, and already I can tell that getting out of bed tomorrow will be interesting. I'm beginning to reconsider this whole "Buns of Steel" notion. Perhaps "Buns of Heavy Duty Aluminum Foil" will do.

See you in a few days again, I guess.
Penelope in Pain