I know you wanna do the Jane Fonda.

Let me start by saying, as I lift my iced soy latte at Coffee Bean, my arm is shaking. My body is in agony. The kind of agony, my friends, caused by none other than an intense workout at the gym. The kind of agony that can only be cured by a 90 minute deep tissue massage – if only that was the deal of the day on groupon, as opposed to the ½ off tamale making class I just purchased.

If you haven't caught on, I love delicious treats like these, these, and these. Let me also say, I think working out and losing weight in the cold winter months is unnatural. Bears don’t do it. They hibernate. Cavemen didn’t do it either. It’s called a winter coat for a reason. And I for one, hate being cold. While I hear tales of snow and downpours of rain elsewhere in the country, it’s been a gorgeous 80 degrees here in Los Angeles and I have the sunburn to prove it. And let me tell you something else, nothing will shatter your self-confidence more than prancing around the pool in your bright blue polka dot bikini – only to see a mother of two, wearing the same one. And looking better in it. Needless to say, I’ve now been working it out at the gym.

There was once I time when I was very active. Then I became one of those I have a job, and I’m so exhausted after working all day I can’t go to the gym kind of people. It got even worse when I became one of those I don’t have a job, and I’m so exhausted from eating Coco Krispies all day I can’t go to the gym kind of people. Well my friends, and the mom who’s too old to be wearing my polka dot bikini, those days are over.

My dear friend Heidi, who’s skills in the kitchen are only matched by her dedication in the gym, has been dragging me with her at 6:30 in the morning. Different from me, Heidi is one of those I have a job, and I’m so exhausted after working all day I can’t go to the gym – so I go before work kind of people. I know, it freaked me out at first too. I bet she was regretting bringing me as her gym buddy the second my face turned as pale as a ghost and I nearly collapsed to the ground, only to be resuscitated by Gatorade.  Picture my face on the neck of one of those brightly colored T-shirts worn by contestants on The Biggest Loser, puking into a garbage can. Or don’t. Because that’s kind of gross. You get the idea. Don’t worry, I have been back a few times since. I'm not surrendering to beach cover-ups that quickly. So thanks, Heids, and thanks Uncle Jesse too – Heidi’s trainer who threatens to upload video footage of me on YouTube if I ever run for the trash. I should probably say he really isn’t anyone’s uncle, but associating him with a loveable guy from Full House is the only way not to punch him in the face when he turns up the speed on the treadmill.

Has that damn Mickey Avalon song been stuck in your head since reading this title, too? No. Just me? Ok then. Five, six, seven now. If you don’t know lemme show you how. To work it out, work it little momma. I know you wanna do the Jane Fonda. 

But seriously, how fabulous does she look? Grab my legwarmers and sign me up.