I hate when I wake up in the morning and my ass muscles burn. This is especially disconcerting considering I spend all day sitting on my ass, which hurts. I wonder if one can break their ass. I'm guessing this is entirely possible. Surely, the ass is smarting a bit due to the actual exercise I did last night at rehearsal for my burlesque troupe. One of our members is a belly-dancer and taught us some lovely hip-swiveling moves. Instead of looking like a delightful woman from a Bollywood film, I looked like a white girl attempting to shake it like a Polaroid picture (which reminds me, I should really get out Mom's old Polaroid and take some cool shots). The worst part was watching myself in the mirror and quipping my "ain't I cute!" face for myself. It was pathetic. This could be an opportunity to lose a few vanity pounds and practice my exercises daily. Or, it could pose an even better opportunity to gorge on junk. After rehearsal, I took my hour-long trip home on the MBTA in the bitter New England cold (it's not even winter yet, eek!) and made myself a huge hot fudge Sunday upon arrival at the home base. Tasty. Fattening. I feel like a stuffed duck. QUACK!
The election is tomorrow and I'm fairly pumped to vote. Tonight I must check out the dreaded Garment District for photo shoot clothing. You would think Wednesday could be busy enough with the photo shoot in the evening, and the need for an appropriate costume, but I also must go to Worcester for an Assistant Manager's meeting. Horrid. I have no desire whatsoever to do this, but I must, for the sake of keeping my job. Hello, Commuter Rail, how do you do?