I posted this yesterday on The Face Place, but this morning I re-started my fitness regime –– and intensely since I realize I have REAL deadlines approaching, like Cancun and then a book launch, where I prefer not to devolve into Truman Capote, but rather … well, can you think of a successful author with washboard abs?
Anyway, as I jumped rope this morning with Belle by my side, I wondered (as always) if I appear more like a boxer or a 14 year-old girl.
This guy was waiting in his car at the end of the cul-de-sac and when he exited he started belting out the theme song from Rocky, GONNA FLY NOW to me –– so I guess I had my answer from the Universe.
[And I guess Belle is my Burgess Meredith.]
At the other end of the physical spectrum, I also rolled out my yoga mat for the first time in ages (as a formal thing), and realized my toes required an emergency pedicure. It’s not exactly what I imagine Rocky ever did in the movies, but he really should have.
And thus continues my life: when you get right down to it, I’m more or less a boxer (with glitter on his toes.)
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When they remake Rocky and have Jake starring as the Italian Stallion, I hope they replace the raw eggs with a mani-pedi. It’s the 21st century, after all.
That would be the greatest movie ever made.