I am not a super-fan of melon, but the cantaloupe I ate for lunch today rivals the most sweet and perfect fruits ever grown.
I threw in 21 grams of slivered almonds and chopped pecans for some crunch, protein, and healthy fat, and enjoyed my own little bowl of fruity heaven.
This made me feel a little better after going Round Two with a sports bra (if you wear a bra, read on). Round One didn't go so smoothly, so I figured I should purchase a new bra, whose elastic was manufactured sometime after 1995, in a size more appropriate for a grown woman, rather than a teen soccer player.
I went to the local outlet stores and tried on enough bras to lift and separate all of the bra-less women featured in National Geographic magazine, and walked out 45 minutes later with two bras which set me back $50. Aren't outlets supposed to make shopping a less guilty pleasure? Now that I've worn both bras to the gym, I now know, I have paid dearly for misery. The kind of misery that makes breathing difficult.
Though my butt and belly may wobble, my chest is a strong foundation upon which you could place any structure, without concern for instability.
That is, until I reach my van after class. Then, all bets are off, and I am the nutty woman whose arms are retracted under her shirt while she curses and swears until she is free of her binding undergarment.
I drive home, free at last. And carefully avoid potholes and speeding. (Because who wants to face a cop with sweaty lap-boobs?)