Saturday: Run and Yoga

So, my Saturday was actually a big success on the feel good and eat right barometer.  I managed to catch up on all of my sleep and Ivan and I had a productive, if not cost effective, trip to Whole Foods.  I started off my day with a glowing green smoothie, which I really missed while in Montana. Once Ivan was down for his nap, I previewed my Vanity Fair (which is the Jennifer Lopez divorce issue, meaning that the crux of the issue is a real snore), and then I got in an hour of yoga.

I am not sure that I have mentioned this before, BUT I have found some great hour long yoga practices on youtube, and I just sit the computer on the floor and downward dog my cares away.  It is super-fabulous and as my confinement gets more and more in the way of my weights workouts and lunges and what not, yoga is a real strengthener and lifesaver.  Also, many yoga practices are uber challenging, and I don't really think I am missing too much of my strength training under the circumstances.

After yoga, I put on my lululemon running skirt and a black tank top (which honestly makes me look like some sort of pregnant roller derby contestant, but what evs).  After having a pretty terrible workout week, I was braced for some serious running misery today, BUT I must say, I think it was the altitude in Montana that made my lungs feel like they were going to explode and my legs feel wobbly like a newborn colt.  I had a really lovely and relatively perky three mile run.  It was good times, and it restored my faith in my athletic ability, such that it is right now.

Then, in a Herculean task of cleansing, I purged all my off-season tupperware tubs of clothing that I may not ever want to wear again and readied myself for some all out ebaying tomorrow as I strive to obtain a pair of Christian Louboutin leopard wedges.  If all goes well, Loubs will be mine for half-price, and I will be knocking your socks off post-baby with my cigarette pants and leopard shoes.

I vaguely remember being consumed with what I can only call CRAZY, after Ivan was born. I thought that I needed 1000 fancy dresses and shoes for a delusional life I was leading on some other planet, when all I really needed were dirty tank tops and yoga pants for my life as a breed cow.  I am not sure where my thought processes lead me that I thought that I needed a whole bunch of chiffon in which to feed from the breast, but I can feel it descending on me again.  Is it a combination of hormones and deadly deadly vanity?  I am not sure, but I can hear the rustle of chiffon and I can see the Loubs in my closet.  It is totally happening.