Who wants to be like Wolverine anyway...

My daily self torture ritual has increased to an hour now (not including the crunches I do before bed). I literally torture myself for an hour a day. Why? Do I really need a hawt, healthy body? My husband already thinks I'm hawt (always has) and who else cares? Does anyone else in the whole wide world care if I have a killer awesome body? And as far as being healthy goes, well, there are a lot of stout, happy old people running around. I know, I've seen them. So why do it? Why work out?
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It's simply because, when I fantasize about it, nothing says fabulously forty more than being able to prance around bikini clad at my birthday party. Am I going to prance around bikini clad at my birthday party? Um that would be a big... NO WAY! But knowing that I could without embarrassment if I wanted to is enough to keep me going (I've actually threatened myself with posting a picture of my bikini clad body on this blog come birthday time, but I'd never really do that either).
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So I guess what it comes down to is vanity. My vanity drives me to enter my family room torture chamber every morning in hopes of being able to wow myself (because no one else will see) with my new and improved birthday suit on birthday day. That's all. Let's hope it works.
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In the meantime I think I need to turn my vain eye toward my children for awhile. After all, can one really be considered fabulous when her child is walking about the neighborhood looking like this...

YES she did go to her friend's house dressed like this and YES she IS wearing one penny loafer and one Mary Jane. It was a proud moment I tell you. A proud, proud moment.