Does This Mean My Legs Need To Start Watching The Lifetime Network?

Me: "Doc, I think I need to go on Prozac."

Physician: "Do you feel that you are suffering from depression?"

Me: "Well, yes. Only, it is not for me. It is for my legs. They are depressed."

Hmmm.


Do I sound like I have lost my mind? Maybe. But gimme a minute...


I have been AGONIZING over the condition of my legs as of late. I see dramatic, POSITIVE change everywhere. My back. My arms. My abs. But my legs? Not so much. They are puffy. They are bruised. They are damn near squishy to the touch. They are ouchy! They are achy!

I have been throwing everything at them. Thirty to forty minutes of fasted cardio, seven days a week. Running, walking, the treadmill, the Elliptical, the Stair Mill, hills, bleachers, spin classes...you name it and I have put my poor wheels through it within the past four weeks. I have done twenty minutes and up to an hour of cardio nightly AFTER training to tighten up my gams. Sprints, Step classes, plyo training, Tabata, and on and on. So, after being grumpy and feeling extremely fed up and pissed off with this portion of my anatomy, I grab my dear Figure Mentor/Friend, Frances Smith, and pull her into a dressing room of the gym locker room where I unabashedly strip half naked (like I give a damn, at this point!) and show her the objects of my extreme vexation.


"Oh! They are just stressed out."


Stressed out? Like, they need to go on a cruise or watch a Matthew McConaughey chick flick?

Or are we taking serious depression here? Do they need bi-weekly visits on a long couch with a professional otherwise they will resort to watching Oprah and eating Pillsbury Frosting right out of the container with a spoon?

I am really ticked off at them, here. They are stressed? Really?!? Maybe I am stressed. I pay the bills so that they can have those jeans they like. I mean, they do not have to sleep in Victoria's Secret Pink terry cloth snuggly warm-ups or have higher thread count sheets to curl up under. Lord only knows the boyfriend would just as soon sleep naked under a potato sack. Ungrateful. Do they have any clue as to what have I gone through the last 1o weeks?!? So I pile on the cardio and cut out carbohydrates a little in the home stretch and they get stressed out?

Boo freakin' hoo.

Try setting a goal at nearly 31 (I lied. 21. lol) to hop on a stage under floodlights and prance around in heels and a bejeweled piece of cloth the size of a Kleenex. Get your crap together, legs. No one has time for you to be stressed. I surely don't. I have less than six weeks. How about I let you watch a movie on Lifetime and you can have a good ol' cry and read Cosmo after? I will let you chat all night with your "girlfrans" and y'all can meet up at a local coffee shop to be melancholy and dramatic. Wear a beret. Depressed people in coffee shops do that. Mmmm kay?

Thanks.

"Everyday brings a choice: to practice stress or to practice peace."
~ Joan Borysenko