Dear Kid,

Your sister has decided to kill me.

I know this because she has been doing the insanity workouts this summer and has decided I need to join her in these workouts.

Anything that includes the word “insanity” and is not immediately followed either by the word “chocolate” or “coffee” cannot possibly be good for me.

In order to preserve my sanity, my capacity to breathe, and my ability walk upright, I’ve decided to begin compiling a list of reasons NOT to do the insanity workout.

1. I have a hangnail.
2. I don’t have an Insanity Workout outfit.
3. My eyelashes hurt.
4. I sprained my eardrum.
5. I want to be able to work out tomorrow.
6. “Work. Out.” ‘Nuff said.
7. I have to cook dinner.
8. I have to write a blog.
9. I have to paint the garage.
10. I have to finish knitting a sweater.
11. I have to learn how to knit.
12. I have a date with a pillow.
13. I need to text someone.
14. I have to be home in case the political pollsters call.
15. I’d rather binge out on Oreos.

I don’t think she’ll accept any of those, but a girl’s gotta try.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Anyone who says that men and women are identical in all things has never experienced the joy of a sports bra.

A well-crafted sports bra is all about, um, restraint, and is built with more attention to engineering than the space station.

A sports bra “fits” if it is 4 sizes smaller than that which it is trying to contain. Wriggling in and out of a good sports bra involves the grace of a drunk water buffalo and the agility of a contortionist. Scientists have determined that more calories are burned dressing and undressing than during most workouts.

You think Game of Thrones contains battles? Ha! That’s nothing compared to the Battle of the Sports Bra.

Yesterday I almost lost the battle. The particular garment in question has a clip thing (no problem) AND a zipper (big problem). To correctly fasten the zipper you have to exert 2 billion pounds of force to bring the two sides together and then zip the zipper. While you hold the edges still. This works better if you’re an octopus. Having only standard issue limbs, I struggled.

Somehow, the zipper misaligned and I found myself in the grip of industrial strength elastic. The zipper would neither zip nor move down. The elastic tried to simultaneously strangle me and pull apart the entire contraption.

I tugged, I tweaked, I coaxed, I cajoled, I pulled, I lost. I tried holding part of the zipper in my teeth. (Yes, mom, even after all that orthodonture.) I was mere moments away from calling the rescue team to bring a pair of scissors to cut me free when I finally (finally!) muttered the proper curse and got unzipped.

After I got the whole thing refastened, I hit the gym floor. It seemed like a lot of effort to stroll once around the track. (I’m kidding. I strolled several times around.)

Equality, my Aunt Fanny.

Love, Mom