There’s a time in every girls life when she realizes that having two pairs of pants rip in one month is a negative thing. Blame could probably be placed on thin fabric or frequent usage but we all know whose fault this really is. Thank you, Thanksgiving. Merry? Not so much anymore, Christmas. The result of over-eating and under-moving, the lethargy I’m going through is shameful.
There is, however, a ray of hope in my future. Thank goodness for my athletic father who never fails to make me feel like a big sack of lazy when he relates to me the stories of his tennis court domination. He has inadvertently inspired me to move again.
I have no desire to be the tennis prodigy that I’m sure he once had hopes for (which is good because my foreseeable tennis skills are already lacking) but I think that the effort could be rewarded. And even if that reward is the ability to walk quickly up a lot of stairs and not be winded, I’m happy.
Just like I’m trying to do with art, if I don’t publicize my attempt to get into shape then it probably won’t happen and I’ll just continue to sit here and fuse to my bed. No one wants that. So I’ve got some sweet new tennis kicks, an extra racket from my dad, fresh socks, about 6 cartons of tennis balls and no excuse to not be awesome. Well, I need to find a tennis court but all in time…can’t be too hasty.
In short, worry not, dear friends. Your beloved Morgan will not continue to expand and her pants will stay in one piece. I hope. No, I know. I know they will remain intact.
UGGGHHH commitment is hard. Support me in my endeavors.