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And suddenly, I remember why I used to run regularly. (Crib sheet: because it does phenomenal things to your ass.)
(via andellasaid)
summersperfectdaughter asked: I am Addicted to your blog. I love it so much. Keep being my inspiration your making me want to document my progress!!!!!!!!!
STEP 1: French braid hair, wrap the loose part of the braid in a bun. Secure with a hair tie.
STEP 2: Call sprinting around a playground while lifting a 33 pound child more times than you can count “cardio.”
STEP 3: Perform cardio in 84*F weather for over an hour.
STEP 4: Take hair out of French braid. Suddenly look more than presentable again.
Sometimes, I think God made iPhones with FaceTime cameras, Diptic, instagram, and social media in general just so when I have a really, really good hair day after only doing so much as finger brushing my hair, there is an outlet for me to gloat and preen because hey, when you feel pretty, you feel pretty. There’s nothing narcissistic about that… Okay, maybe there is, but if you don’t love yourself, who the hell will? You deserve to think you’re pretty. You deserve to revel in the moment. And I deserve to justify my #GPOY until the cows come home because I paid good money for this hair and damn it, a month later, it’s finally working right.
I have a nagging suspicion that the very first day of on-ramp may be like dry humping and not the full monty, but here’s to popping that crossfit cherry, y’all.
GPOY, the “actually, that’s iced coffee, not water,” edition. Or, everything you need to know about me in a photograph, down to my theory that caffeine is a food group and the oversized cat eye frames my sister swears I bought just so I could channel the kid karrying Kardashian. (I will neither confirm nor deny these allegations, but home brewed iced coffee is a revelation, y’all.)
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