So in the quest to lose this post pregnancy weight and extra love around my tummy I decided to try out kickboxing. It sounded fun and I thought it'd be a quick and intersting way to tone up. The instructor is my son's boxing teacher so I figured I knew him well enough that I'd enjoy the class even it was hard.

Wrong.

I wanted to kick his a$$. The only other time I've felt like that was when I made the unfortunate mistake of enrolling in a spinning class and after the first class I swore I was going to wait for the instructor in the parking lot to kick her a$$. Really. And I don't even know how to fight.

So I went to this class and after the first 12 minutes of hell jump roping (who the hell jumps rope for 12 minutes? wacko!) I knew that I was in for it. The pscycho teacher then proceeded to ask us (read demand impatiently..moron) that we put on our hand wraps in order to begin the death match exercise.

Really, it was just too much. I had no idea what the hell I was doing and after over thirty minutes of torture and an exercise that involved grabbing/jabbing and kicking the bags I felt as if I were going to pass out and have diarrhea simultaneously. Real talk. This is for real. I quickly found a place to sit down and catch my breath. Which allowed me the time to develop a scheme to take down this diabolical asshole teacher.....I haven't come up with a plan yet.......but I will......