Why I Don’t Have “Michelle Obama” Arms

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If it weren’t for Pettigrew, my arms would look this good!

Unfortunately, walking Pettigrew doesn’t count as exercise. We take far too many “sniff” breaks for me to get my heart rate up and the distance we cover is paltry, despite that fact that we are out for a long time. For more on how I made this depressing discovery see What You Don’t Know Can’t Hurt You…If Only I Had Left It At That

Yet, it wasn’t until this morning that I realized how Pettigrew has insidiously undermined my attempts to get in shape.

I wake with a firm determination to workout. First I just need to get my family fed, off to work and school, and walk Pettigrew. Then I can hit the weights.

But as Pettigrew and I traipse through the neighborhood, ideas float into my mind. He’s my muse after all.

As soon as we get home I dump food in his bowl, refill his water, and, instead of grabbing my weights as I had planned, I must rush to the computer to capture these bon mots before they are gone.

Later, raising my head from writing–OK, and maybe I took a peak at my email, twitter, facebook, and looked up a few really important facts online—it’s late. Too late. There’s no time to work out!

So, if it weren’t for Pettigrew I would certainly be one buff gal by now.

4 thoughts on “Why I Don’t Have “Michelle Obama” Arms

  1. I try to exercise at another time, sometimes staying in my workout clothes for the whole day with the expectation that I will squeeze it in at some point, but that rarely happens.

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