Woeful Wednesday.

Well, it's Wednesday and that means I'm off to boot camp. I don't know what it is about paying someone to kick my ass that makes me feel better about myself. So I'm off to spend an hour doing push-ups, and mountain climbers, and fucking jumping-jacks. I get excited when we grab for the weights because that means I at least get to breathe. Then there's this progress nonsense, I mean I was perfectly content with the 3 lb weights, but now I feel the urge to go up to 5 lbs. I was happy with no risers under my step, now I have 2. Dammit man, why did I start setting goals and accomplishing them? It's simple really, it's all about payoff. I have two separate shopping trips lined up. One with Mrs. Brittany and one with Ms. Tiffany. I cannot freaking wait. I mean really, it all comes back to the fashion in the end. Especially the new shoes I'm coveting. They look painful. Apparently I am a masochist at heart.