saaay whaaat?!

That smudged mascara is for REAL.

THIS is the face you make after you CRY on your Booty Camp instructor.

Why, you ask? Were you injured? Did something happen?

Wait until you hear the rest.

Ready?

Because.. because... I WAS SO EXCITED TO BE DOING LUNGES AND SQUATS WITHOUT WANTING TO KILL ANYONE.

That's right, I CRIED. I cried because I was EXCITED.

I know, right. Like WTF?! (sorry Mom)

Poor Eszter. I came up to her at the end of class and my lip was already trembling, and I'm thinking, geez, I can't back down now, and she's probably thinking, OH NOES SOMEBODY DIED, and all I squeak out is, "I just wanted to say.." before a semi-truck runs over my face and tears start squeaking out against my will.. "That I'm really excited.. I'm sorry, I cry when I'm excited.. this is a good thing..". I need to send her an email. And maybe a link to this blog. She probably thinks I'm on drugs.

It's like there's a misfiring in my brain and whatever response is appropriate for the time, I give the opposite one. I cry at everything. I cry when I'm sad, when I'm happy, when I'm pissed, when I see those stupid drunk driving commercials, or anything for cancer, or ALS, so basically everytime I turn on the dang tv. I cry when I have a really good workout. I cry when I watch Glee.. except not last night, it was stupid. I cry when I see babies. I'm in a chronic state of dehydration. It's tragic really.

It wouldn't be so bad if I was a "pretty" crier. Alas, I am not. When I cry, it looks like I fell face-first into a poison ivy patch, and then rolled around for a little while.

Kind of like this guy. But a girl. And less hairy.

When I get married, I'm going to ban all cameras from the wedding, and then have a separate photo shoot with the photographer three weeks later, because no WAY is THAT being in my wedding album.

I'm just kidding. I think.