Once in a while, when the mood strikes me, I swear out loud for everyone to hear.  It happens less often then the semi-annual Nordstroms sale but when it does it feels so good.  Just like the sale.

"Stay away from me."

"What did you say?"

"I said.  Stay away from me."  I caught her off guard when my ill fitting words flooded the room.

"What are you here for then?"

".... can't breath..... move your hands... move..... NOW!"

She stood before me with her immaculately sculpted arms, a shoulder width apart, providing me the area in which I had to swing my arms from side to side while keeping my core stabilized.  I titled my pelvis back, sucked in my muffin top, closed my eyes and swung my arms at shoulder height back and forth and back and forth for twenty seconds keeping my core motionless.  There's no one-Mississippi two-Mississippi three-Mississippi at my personal trainer's house; instead, in my head I religiously drop a couple of one-youareabitch two-youareabitch three-youareabitch every time I am there.  Only today it came out.  Classy fail.  It just slipped right out of my mouth.

"Bitch!"

"What?"

"............."  I couldn't get myself to repeat it.

"Did you just call me a Bitch?"

".... can't breath..... move your hands... move..... NOW!"

"You just called me a bitch.  How about five more seconds of this?  How do you like that, Bitch?"

I liked it, a lot!  And just like the semi-annual sale when I leave feeling "how in the world can I top this?"  I wonder what other words I can use in dire straights when I explode the next time. Because in all honesty, I'm a big bore in real life.  I'm thinking...  You are such a poopy-head will do just fine, no?

BTW.  Jennifer my personal trainer (the sweetest sweetest mother you will ever meet with the most rocking body) taught me how to get these cute little muscles and now my thighs no longer rub together and she makes me sweat very much and even my face has lost weight. And I really do love her.  Sometimes.