Oh, it's been brought.

So, I started P90X2 over the weekend. I’ll admit, I was pretty excited to start a new exercise routine. While I gave up in the 7th week of P90X (don’t tell anyone), I’ll admit, I did feel better while I was exercising regularly (don’t tell anyone). And, as you know, I’ve been fairly sedentary the last couple months, so I needed someone to kick me in the ass.

And, boy, did he.

As we did last year, my husband and I do the first DVD together. I always enjoy doing this stuff with him. He used to train a lot in his single days, so he knows a lot more about exercise than I do. Plus, it helps to have someone tell me if my form is good (I want to punch him in the throat if he tells me it’s not, but that’s neither here nor there).

So, there we are, in our new basement, with our new TV, prepared to sweat. And then Tony’s big head comes on screen (he doesn’t really have a big head, it just looks ginormous on our gigantic TV screen – Hi Tony!). Okay, fine, I am happy to see him. While he irritated the crap out of me the first time around, I found myself missing him after I quit like a baby stopped.

(This, of course, did not make me start back up again, but don’t tell anyone.)

The first exercise is something core related. When he says, “Core”, I hear “Pain”. The first thing I notice is that I am way more coordinated this time around than I was the first time doing P90X. So, that’s something. That’s about the only good thing I can say. We finish the routine without dying (okay, second good thing I can say). I wasn’t even in that much pain afterward (fine, three good things).

I come back for more the second day. This is where I almost die. And watch the woman on screen (with a cute haircut) do all this with a smile on her face. A smile. Bitch.

PS.  My 4-year-old is in the basement with me this time, playing with his Legos. While I am dying a slow death.

“What will this be like for him,” I wonder, as I gasp for air, “watching his mother die right in front of him. All because of stupid exercise? How could I scar him like that? I should quit. I mean, think of the children.”

It’s no coincidence Plyocide sounds a lot like suicide.

But, as you can plainly see, I do not die. I get through the routine a little worse for wear, but I survive. And, even though my 4-year-old shows me up with one move, I feel good that I got through the entire routine without shutting the TV off with an “Eff that.” I should be rewarded!

My reward, however, is sore muscles. It hurts to sit. It hurts to stand. But, I was much worse last time, so that’s something (four good things!). And, I rather like the pain (five!).

I could totally be the spokesperson for P90X2. Where IS that phone call?

Bring it.