I swear, its her fault. Really. I swear.
We've started a new routine: she takes 4ft to school (she drives right by my house) with her daughter and then comes back and we workout together. We play Wii Sports or we do Zumba. We laugh a lot and have a lot of fun and it doesn't feel like working out.
Yesterday she says, "Hey, I have this cool Pussy Cat Dolls Burlesque workout video, wanna try it?"
I stupidly say, "Sure. Should be fun."
I should have keyed in on her evil snicker but I thought maybe I'd imagined it. I didn't.
I. Can. Barely. Move. Today.
Don't get me wrong, dancing like a hoochie is seriously F-U-N. And we laughed and danced like epileptic albino freaks having seizures but today my legs are trying to put a hit out on me to put them out of their misery. I try to tell them it's her fault, she made me do it, but they won't listen.
At least she was suffering as much as I was AND she had to climb my stairs.