NaBloPoMo asks today…
What is the first thing that pops into your mind when you hear the word jump?
In fact, you won’t find me jumping period. I am no longer 18 and in shape. Jumping requires more exertion than I care to do at this point in my life. Jumping equals sweating, which equals gasping for breath, which inevitably results in feeling as if death may soon over take me. Excuse me while I toss my cookies in the corner. Whenever I get ambitious and decide to work out, you can bet I am groaning and doing the modified version whenever Bob Harper of the Biggest Loser decides that jumping jacks are the next thing on the agenda. I know if I attempt them, I will be dying after about 3. I absolutely hate jumping jacks. They honestly should be outlawed.
Jumping is for ladies whose b00bs haven’t already started heading south, or those who have had implants whose b00bs don’t move at all. That leaves me out . Jumping is for the physically fit and ambitious, which also leaves me out. I never could jump a rope to save my life, and you can bet your bottom dollar I won’t be jumping anytime in the near future until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.