So, I'm on the phone with my brother (yes, you are allowed to look shocked and surprised
at this strange occurrence) and he goes on and on about joining a gym and stuff, then asks about my routine (because he totally did not
spend like three months with me an itty bitty little while ago), I told him I just did yoga for, like, twenty minutes every morning because I'm too lazy to hit a gym and also, self-conscious. So yoga studio it is, where people is nice and all peaced-out and stuff (not that there aren't types like that in a gym, they're just much more common where I'm at) and he scoffs and says that's not enough work out, where's the muscle and the sweat in that?
. It totally is a work out, I may not break out a sweat every
single time, nor do I have nicely shaped/toned muscles, but that's because I don't feel like spending a hour in a heated room, sweating liters off
for the sakes of feeling like a proper work out. I walk everywhere and I eat healthily and I'm way more flexible that he could ever dream of being
. ::blows raspberry:: So there.
I was ticked, to I picked up a two liters (about 70 oz?, I'm out of practice with this whole conversions thingy) water bottle and tried some bicep curls, got to fifteen before my bicep started burning and my hand was kinda cramped. Totally
the uncomfortable shape of the bottle's fault. Also, I know nothing about bicep curls and fifteen sounds minimal BUT I CAN HOLD THE ENTIRE WEIGHT OF MY BODY IN AWKWARD BALANCING ASANAS FOR, LIKE FIVE BREATHS (which is totally a long time, like thirty seconds, try it) AND LIVE TO TELL THE TALE. So shove it, bro.
Um. Wanna bake some bread, pro'lly will now that the weather seems to have gotten the memo that yes, fall is indeed here, and so it should behave accordingly, dammit!
Today I learned a valuable lesson: chickpeas are the girlfriends of the boypeas. Gender/biology lesson courtesy of the four year-old that joined my group last week. I may fangirl his awesomeness a little.