Sometimes you write a post about your sappy feelings, and then you get emails from fellow concerned bloggers about your state of mind.

For the record it is a beautiful short wearing day in Toronto. And anyone who has ever visited Toronto knows our mood depends heavily on the weather.

You could be going through the crappiest time in your life, and still feel like a million bucks, because it’s a balmy 25 degrees in September. Thus I feel fantabulous…and xxxtra happy that I shaved my legs.

I have a gym at my new place. It’s pretty basic and always deserted…yuppies only like to work out in the expensive hot yoga studios….which works out well for me.

Last night, I got all dressed up, because really no one works out in spandex and loose t-shirts anymore…. (I really hope you guys knew that) and spent a couple of minutes (Haha, you guys thought I was going to say hours) on the treadmill, a few more minutes on a bike (I forgot how hard those seats are), and then I went to try out the weight contraption they had. I’m a petite girl, and while in extreme circumstances I will grunt and bear the pain of carrying a heavy load, I mostly just let others do it. So I set the contraption on the lightest weight, and pretended I was in that bow flex commercial. I was the hot sixty year old grandma, showing off my abs of steel. Hear me roar…..only I reached up to get the bar to pull down, and of course my petite little arms cann’t reach that high, so I had to stand up and the dang thing hit me across the face.

I am not sure weight training and I are meant to be.