My oldest...

baby just turned SEVENTEEN YEARS OLD!!!!! We've been through some rocky patches over the years, but all-in-all, I'm very blessed. Both of my boys have turned out great so far. Is it my doing? Well, I'm certainly going to take a little bit of credit for being an enormous nag...maybe I can blame the fact that I HAVE to nag them on my ex-husband. He did contribute half their genetics. I have to counteract that somehow.

It's crazy though. I'm not quite 40. It's looming...dark and scary...like a storm front on the horizon...I have just over 9 months before I get there. That is just over 9 months to take my saggy, tired, feeble, flabby, not quite 40 but feels like 60, FAT body and transform it into something that feels like it did before I had kids and looks like Demi Moore's from that stupid movie where she pretended to be a Navy Seal. There isn't a Navy Seal on the face of the planet that couldn't kick Demi Moore's ass from here to next Sunday, but MY GOD...why would she care with abs like those??

They do it on the Biggest Loser. My seventeen year old son pulled off a similar transformation (if you leave out the age issues) in LESS time. I've read countless magazine articles about other people that do it. I've read countless other blogs about people that do it. I've seen pictures at my gym of people that have done it. I've sat through episodes of Celebrity Fit Camp and watched has-been 'celebrity' after has-been 'celebrity' do it. I've seen people way bigger than me Dance Their Ass clean off.

What does all this mean? Well, not too long ago I came to my breaking point. I wrote about it back then. It was DECISION TIME....TIME TO DO SOMETHING!! Well, the something I started out to do didn't work out on my first at bat. To continue with the baseball analogy...I got nailed in the head by a wild pitch and benched for the rest of the season. It sucked. It was discouraging. I went from a very high high to a very low low. Part of me...a really big part...probably my ass...wanted to give up. That part of me wanted to sit in my recliner eating ice cream, gummy bears, buttery popcorn, chicken wings, pizza, jalapeno potato chips, etc.,etc., etc. That part of me wanted to sit in that damn chair WATCHING other people live their lives.

You know what, though? I DECIDED not to listen to the part of me (my ass??) that wanted to give up. I've been jumping through hoops of fire for the past few months trying to rehabilitate my knee. Three surgeons, two MRIs, enough x-rays to make me glow in the dark, weeks of physical therapy, enough Advil to cause permanent liver damage, two braces, a walker, crutches, lots of missed work, lots of missed baseball games, lots of missed life = DEFINITIVELY NO KNEE SURGERY!!!!!

No knee surgery = Naomi back on track to launch WWIII on her ass

It really doesn't get any better...or more simple than that.