www.mymaterialworld.org

I have a pain in my ass. Literally. My tailbone hurts. Ok yes, so I spend countless hours sitting on a hardwood floor playing with my new puppy, even more countless hours slinging clothes and furniture around photo studios across Manhattan, and my pilates matt hasn’t seen the light of day since J Lo was in style. Basically the economy is in better shape than me right now. I wonder, why is it so hard to take care of ourselves? I buy shoes that are too small for my size 11 feet because I just can’t resist, I walk hundreds of blocks in flip flops (which have less support than President Bush) and I wonder why I have severe lower back pain. Then there’s the rest of my body. I consistently choose carbs over veggies, drink way more than one glass of red wine a night and occasionally smoke unmentionables with my friends as a way to “relieve stress.” This is definitely not what the doctor ordered. Oh sure every now and then I get on a “health kick” and start working out or eating more salads which lasts until my next hangover, then it’s back to greasy food and milkshakes. I must have some faith that I’ll get in shape again because I still have my gym membership. A $100 a month reminder that fitness is always just around the corner. But every time I think of hitting the gym I remember that I’ve got to push through all the crowds to get there and I think…”that’s a real pain in the ass.”