Made of goo

I sometimes say that I'm made of cheese and preservatives on the inside. I decided that I wanted killer arms for the wedding, so I thought I'd do some push-ups to get a little more cut. Jamie and I bet $5 over whether I could do 20 push-ups (and not the kind where you're on your knees). Turns out 2 was just about all I could handle. So I guess I really am made of cheese and preservatives. It's really quite sad. I want to get into some kind of shape, but I haven't quite figured out how to work it into my schedule. One of these days.