Kettlebell Hell

I hope you realize how dedicated I am to bringing the funny each and everyday, because I am currently typing this little ditty with my elbows.  You see, today I started a new aerobic adventure and decided to give the kettlebell a whirlsie, and the only part on my body that is not "feelin' the burn" are my eyelids.  I knew something needed to be done when I had to dust off my Sketchers Shape-ups, and I found my sparkly blue unitard that I've affectionately named "The Electric Slide" balled up in the corner of my closet.     You're picturing me in my Shape-ups and unitard right now, aren't you? Well stop it... I was also wearing a sweatband and wrist guards, to help paint an even more astounding picture in your mind.  *Focus* I decided to give the good old bell a try, because I have a special place in my heart for gimmicks equipment that will help me become successful at bouncing a quarter off of my rear end.  Now you see, some people collect stamps, I collect exercise equipment that promises me body parts of steel, and the ability to do the splits.  This collection started when I was about ten and I convinced my mother to buy me the Thigh Master, because I figured I should start early at achieving my goal at becoming the world's youngest body builder.  I figured I could wow the judges over with my ability to crack open watermelons with my thunder thighs.  But, my thighs did not become masterful, and I ended up using the contraption as a sling-shot for water balloons instead.  Then when I was about twelve I invested in the Powerslide, which should have been labeled "The Death Mat with Booties".  All it was, was a slippery mat with paperweights on each end, and you slipped on a pair of booties and glided your way towards a twelve pack.  Well, what it actually did was test your ability to remain standing and alive, and to not crack your head open on the dresser that was in your family room because those booties were nothing more than a blade short of an ice skate.  I think that exercise adventure was retired sooner rather than later, and was used only during reenactments of the film classic "The Cutting Edge."  And then there was the Ab Roller, which just resulted in rug burn because I didn't "power up" my power house of a core, and was unable to wheel myself back up, and then last but not least, the Gazelle, which only proved that I am not in fact gazelle-like, and opposed to what Mr. Little told me, No. No, I can not do it.  I practically catapulted myself off of the thing, while simultaneously gripping onto the handlebars for dear life, and kicking my legs into the air higher than a Rockette.  You would think that after all of these life-lessons of trial-and-error, I would give up and just stick with pilates, but a girl who has an affinity for spandex just can't help herself. Now I've moved onto a contraption that I have to pray that my sweaty mitt doesn't cause the 7 pound bell of hell to go hurtling through the air and into the television screen where it would maim Bob Harper, and cause his insistence of "just a few more" to come to an abrupt halt.  So, if you ever see an infomercial that claims that all you need to do for thinner cankles is to ride a unicycle for a thinner you, please don't tell me.  And if you do tell me, then don't be surprised if you see a woman decked out in a leopard print onesie flying down the road on her uni screaming, "Where are the handlebars on this thing?!?!"  proceeded by asking the EMT if my cankles look any slimmer.  I have to go soak in a tub of Icy Hot right about now.  Hopefully tomorrow I will be back to typing with the proper appendages. :)