Want to get away?

I love vacation.

Seriously though.

Love vacation.

Who doesn't?!

It's a time to get away, relax, work out a little bit, do some fun activities, and people watch.

Yes people watch.

As many of you know, the airport is a great place to people watch.

People running from one gate to the other, dragging their kids and their over stuffed suitcase because they didn't want to pay the $50 for a checked bag, all while eating a bagel from the airport store that sells magazines, candy bars, bagels and neck pillows.

On this last vacation, my husband and I came across a very interesting situation.

We fly stand-by, super cheap, because my awesome mom works for the airlines.

It's usually not a problem to get on a flight because we have the codes to the secret website that shows us how many seats are open on every flight.

{we are kind of like the James Bond of airplanes}

On our last leg home, there were plenty of seats open on this particular flight. 

We got our ticket, boarded the plane, sat in our seats, watched the flight attendant wave her arms signaling where the emergency exits were, and all of that good stuff.

(not to mention how to use your "extra strap" for your seat belt if the normal one doesn't fit).

Awesome.

{insert sarcasm}

Anyways...

Just before we were about to taxi onto the runway, the flight attendant came up to us and stared for about 15.4 extremely awkward seconds.

She then proceeded to tell us that since we were stand-by passengers (aka airplane hitch-hikers), that she was sorry, but the grounds crew just told her that we needed to get off of the plane because the plane was over weight capacity.

WHAT?!

Yeah, over weight capacity. Too many LBs. Too much poundage. 

Too many bagels and not enough running. 

The flight attendants and the ground-crew workers did a great job at unloading our things only to find that the plane was still over weight capacity so now they needed to drain fuel. They were nice enough to  drain enough fuel so that we could get back onto the flight and make it home that night.

What we found out was that the airlines estimate the average passenger to weigh 130 pounds.

WHAT?!

130 pounds? In what country?! Defiantly not America.

See below.

Moral of the story?

The airlines should probably reevaluate their poundage estimate.

Or is that kind of like the clothing companies changing their sizes so that when you put on a size "8" it's actually a size "12" but we don't need to know that because we like to say that we fit in an "8."

True moral of the story?

Eat less bagels and run more.

Seriously, though.

Confessions of a Personal Trainer

I love my husband.

{who wouldn't...he's a hunk}

And almost as much as I love my husband,

I love ice cream.

{there, I said it}

I <3 Ice Cream.

So what does my amazing, hunk of a husband do?

He brings me home a big tub of it.

With a bottle of magic shell.

Yeah, you know, the stuff that makes the magic little chocolate shell as you drizzle it over your cookies and cream ice cream deliciousness?

{yeah, that stuff}

So, to prevent myself from eating it every night,

what do I do?

That's right. I head to the bathroom.

The moment I'm done with dinner and I feel that sweet craving coming on, I either brush my teeth or I use mouth wash.

Why you might ask?

Because after my mouth is minty fresh,

I'd rather go make out with my hunk of a husband than eat ice cream.

Try it.

{but get your own husband}

Confessions of a Personal Trainer

People assume that since I'm a personal trainer that I LOVE to work out.

 All. the. time.

And that I only eat chicken and rice and broccoli and oatmeal.

At. every. meal.

And other times, people think I'm either like "Jillian" on the Biggest Loser and I yell at people, or I'm like this workout "cheerleader" that jumps around the gym counting repetitions for people as they do the torturing exercises I have been scheming about all night...but that's another story for another day.

Well, guess what.

I'm not Jillian

{she is actually just a hired actress and not really a trainer...I'm sure I just bursted a lot of people's bubbles in one single sentence}

I don't work out all day every day.

And I eat more than just chicken rice and broccoli and oatmeal.

{I actually don't even really like oatmeal if you must know. I think it feels like snot in my mouth, so there}

{and plus, I like ice cream...in moderation of course}

Yes, that's correct.  Sometimes, I don't like to work out.

{actually, more often than not, I've been in a gym or studio for 5+ hours of my day and the last thing I want to do is stay there for longer so that I can get on an elliptical and go no where}

And no, I don't eat chicken and rice and broccoli and oatmeal every day, all day.

{that would be stupid of me}

There are days where I splurge a little.

And there might be a weekend that I splurge a little more.

But the difference is that that's where it ends.

I may not work out for a week, every now and then.

But then I get right back into it.

I may not eat all that great, every now and then.

But then I get right back into it.

Why?

{you might ask?}

Because I like the way I look and feel when I eat healthy and exercise on a regular basis more than I like eating bad food that makes me feel like crap and keeps me from wanting to get up off of my lazy booty.

And by God, sometimes (actually most of the time), we just have to stop making excuses, get some self-control, put down the wine and/or chips, put our gym clothes on and go.

Because the hardest part about being healthy is closing our mouth even when we really want seconds, and actually making it out the door to go to the gym.

But when we do, dang does it feel good.

Thanks for listening to my confession.