I work out. I'm sexy and I know it

(For anyone unfamiliar with the title song.  No, it's not one of my theme songs.)

I worked out yesterday finally.  Damn, I needed that.  And not just because I lost 3-5 lbs (depending on whose scale I used) of muscle the past month without it.  It's such a nice boost to my mood and to my esteem.  Plus, it's just plain fun laughing and hanging with the gym-bros.  Including an ER doctor who has bigger hair than I do, which is not an easy feat.  (He's always so nice when I see him at the gym, but I wonder if he becomes an asshole at his job like most ER docs.)

Of course now I can barely lift my arms to feed myself.  It's a good thing I washed my hair before I went.  I used fairly light weights because of my eye, just in case, but it still seemed sufficient to give me a proper workout.  I hope my muscles remember how HUGE they used to be and recover soon.

My workout partner was so happy to see me.  I got 7,453 hugs and kisses.  Or at least 5.  He said he tried to workout without me, but he loses motivation.  It's easy to be distracted when no one holds you accountable.  We also had a nice long talk about life because we hadn't really talked much (besides texting) in four weeks.  He was not pleased to hear that I had been crying a lot.  And emphasized again that he was there for me when I needed it.  I might be a tad independent and hate to lean on people.  Or ask for favors.  I need to work on that.

I'm hopeful that this exercise-induced mood supercharge will last a few days.