Bridal Boot Camp Begins...

Dear Wendi,

Holy crap. I started Bridal Boot Camp yesterday, on what otherwise would have been a perfect Sunday. And by "perfect Sunday" - also known as "life before Boot Camp" - I mean this:

Sleep in.
Wake up refreshed and ready for a little romance (if you know what I mean).
Homemade brunch (using items purchased at the Notting Hill farmers' market the day before): blueberry pancakes, bacon, sausage, chocolate croissant, full-fat Greek yogurt with honey and granola, fresh-squeezed OJ.
Vegging and snuggling and possibly back to bed.

Instead, my Sunday consisted of this:

Wake up to alarm.
Tired and mildly cranky.
Workout nerves + fatigue = no, um, romance.
Pre-Boot Camp breakfast: one scrambled egg, three pieces of broccoli, small handful of almonds.
Ass handed to me by our new trainer, who will hence be known as Colossus.

I know it will all be worth it when I look hotter on my wedding day than I have ever looked in my life, but man. Life without carbs, chocolate, cheese, and - wait for it - ALCOHOL?! Just. Wrong.

Granted, we are only going carbless and boozeless for two weeks. Then we can slowly start adding these necessities back into our diet. And I must begrudgingly admit that since the BF and I started eating more protein and cut out the wine/beer/port/cider/champagne/Jaeger (kidding - I haven't been able to drink that since the Drunken Archaeologist Campsite Laundry Incident of 2000) a few days ago, I am feeling pretty good. Well, or, I was. Until this morning. Well, actually, until the middle of last night. When my soreness started waking me up every time I rolled over.

Today is not much of an improvement. I am already two Motrin in, with plenty more to go. I am hobbling around like I have a dumbbell up my tuchus, and my soreness almost - almost - kept me from my favorite sacred domestic ritual: my Monday morning date with Dyson.

TG I was able to rally.

Hoping you're sore this morning for a better reason than I (if you know what I mean)...

xoxo,
DG