I exercised.

Do you see this woman? She has not exercised since before she was pregnant with Elliot. Thus, she has not exercised in 3 years.

Okay, enough 3rd person. By "exercised" I mean gone to a gym. I've done the occasional DVD and Netflix workouts with Carolyn, my slave driver in the summertime. I've gone on walks with my mom when we lived together forever. I've even done the occasional weight lifting with our weight set at home.

But true exercising commitment to me is either a) going to the gym or b) jogging. Jogging . . . is my nemesis. I used to make myself do it when I was OCD about my body. But I don't really enjoy it, and I don't think it makes my body much better.

I've also come to a point where I don't much care about being a stick anymore. I'm not necessarily "letting myself go," but I have come to grips with my body. I think I look fine. I could of course be skinnier (you can always be skinnier), but it's not so much of a desire.

So I went to the gym. I can go for free, it's a two minute drive from my house, and the thing that really sold me on going was when my husband informed me there are TVs with cable channels on all of the elliptical machines. Distraction is needed or I die.

I wanted to get a picture of myself for proof that I did actually sweat when I got home, but there was a crisis with dinner (I went right before dinner), and I got mad, and I forgot. So you'll just have to believe me. Maybe I'll even do it again . . . tomorrow.