Category Archives: June

The Vacation Allens

Do you become a different person on vacation? Maybe you’re not a different person, per say, maybe just a more restful, relaxed version of yourself. After all, that’s what vacation is for, right? To RELAX, to decompress from real life, to take a break from the rigorous daily routine, to enjoy the fruits of our labor. We work hard for that vacation so we want to enjoy it!


(Those smug rednecks. Look how relaxed they look.)

When our family goes on vacation, we turn into the Vacation Allens. If you’ve never met these Allens, you’re missing out. They are just the most fun. They are up for anything, will wake up extra early for adventure, and they spare no expense. They are easy-going, go-with-the-flow people. They want to pack it all in because they’ve decided they’ll sleep when they’re dead. They haven’t a care in the world, these Vacation Allens.

The only people who hate the Vacation Allens are the Brentwood Allens. They think the Vacation Allens are self-absorbed punks. They’re selfish, they have ALL the fun, and they use the Brentwood Allens credit card to fund it all.


They eat at nice restaurants, not even looking at the right side of the menu, buy all the souvenirs, buy all the entertainment and a month later, the Brentwood Allens are left to foot the bill like a couple of schmucks. What do they think; the Brentwood Allens have a money tree in their backyard? And not only do they leave them to carry the financial burden of all their vacay fun, they also force them to carry the weight. No really, like the actual pounds gained while they feasted on whatever their little hearts desired on vacation. Those Vacation Allens say yes to ALL THE FOOD. Mainly the carbs because screw the Brentwood Allens who try to eat healthy and work out; we’re on VACATION! Bread? YES! Ice cream? YES! Pizza? YES! Chips, salsa, guacamole? YES! YES! YES! The Vacation Allens have zero self-control and have deluded themselves into believing they have the metabolism of a 10 year old with ADHD. It’s pathetic. The Brentwood Allens are left to curse their soft bellies and sausage arms. Thanks a lot Vacation Allens.

I feel bad for the Brentwood Allens always having to pay for the sins of their alter egos. It isn’t fair. But I must say, since we are going on vacation soon, I’m a little giddy for Vacation Court. She is going to have a blast pounding carbs and pretending they don’t affect her body in the least. It’s a blissful time. The backlash will be brutal but Vacation Court will go hard before she goes home. She’s not a quitter. She will eat the last bite/last roll/last piece of cake and will feel zero shame about it. It’s gonna be amazing.

Anybody else have vacation alter egos?


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A Sight to Behold

Summer has come and squashed my theory that our family could slow down and take a break. So far, our summer has been loaded with camps and a couple of weekend getaways with family. After this week we’ll be pretty much done with week long camps (Can I getta whoop whoop?) I have high hopes for July and the rest it will bring.

Judging from the first paragraph, it would seem this is a post about our summer. Well, I would hate to big time everyone with my tales of a trip to my parents’ house in Memphis and a weekend in Pigeon Forge. We lead a pretty glam life so I’d hate to make all of you jealous. No, I’m going to tell/warn you of something you should never do. Unless you’re a fitness instructor and your fitness is on point (cough, cough Beatbox instructors).

I’m going to skip my laundry list of excuses and just tell you it’s been a while since I worked out. Maybe a few weeks. I finally talked myself into going to Beatbox on Monday and much to my surprise the class was a bit small. Like “6 of us” small. Realizing there were only going to be 6 people in the class, the instructor decided we should move to the side of the room that had mirrors and do our workout facing the mirrors. (Let it be known that I am a back row workout girl and never, EVER, workout on the side of the room with mirrors.) She said when we watch ourselves work out it helps us perfect our form because we can actually see what we’re doing wrong. Oh, Kim. I promise you this is the least of my worries when I’m working out in front of a mirror.

So I walk myself over to the mirror and sigh. This is what I look like in workout clothes? I should burn these shorts. My hips are enormous in these shorts. Why do my legs look like tree trunks and my feet look tiny by comparison? It looks like I could tip over at any moment. Wow, I didn’t realize my baby leftovers were so evident in this top. Guess I’ll throw it in the burn pile with the shorts. My shoulder game is on point in this top though so maybe don’t burn it. I need to go easy on the tightness of my ponytail. Why does it look so severe? Must be the bobby pins giving me a facelift. This is not a good look. Uh oh, music’s coming on, I’m going to have to move these tree trunks. Oh my. Who knew it looked like my boobs were about to punch me in the face when I do high knees and sprint in place? It’s like they’re in a boxing match trying to knock out my face. (Note to self: get a bra that keeps these suckers stationary.) Now football sprints? Really? I always felt my whole body jiggle during these but to see it with my own eyes is a lot to process. My fat jiggles so fast! Surely that means it’s melting off. I also now understand why most people in these classes wear those yoga cropped legging things. Can’t see your thighs wave back at you in those. (Another note to self: when I sprint in place, I actually look like I’m going in slow motion. How is this possible? I feel like Flo Jo.) Burpees… I think Satan uses these in hell. I need to start closing my eyes when I have to jump. Watching it is too confidence deflating. Here I thought I was Michael Jordan and I’m actually only about 2 inches off the ground. How is it possible that I look so unathletic? Sigh. I really do look like I’m about to die. I wonder if they do a special cleaning of the floor area where I work out. I should offer to help pay the cleaning bill. The sweat is like a puddle underneath me. I can’t help it really, my genetics handed me head-sweating. I know at least one of my brothers’ suffers from it as well. It’s our cross to bear. (Note to self: remember to wash your nasty sweat towel.) Ok, last song before cool down. Oh crap, she’s playing Bad Blood. This means I’m supposed to hold plank for a solid 3 minutes while my arms take turns doing movements to make the 3 minutes even more torturous. I’m 15 seconds in and doing good. I got this. What are those spots on the ground? No worries, I’m about to pass out but it’ll be fine. I’ll drop a knee. Ok, plank again. More spots. Downward dog. Plank. Child’s pose. Plank with arm out. Spots. Drop both knees to the ground. Plank. Sit up and blink because I’m feeling dizzy. Plank. Song’s over. I can’t believe I held plank for 3 minutes!! Yeah right. Now the blessed cool down. Hallelujah, praise Jesus.

Even though I was critiquing myself during my workout something occurred to me. I may not look good doing this workout but at least I can do it…mostly. I am physically able to exercise and there have been times in my life where this was not the case because I was so sick. So as much as I hated watching my wobbly bits work it for an hour, I was reminded how blessed I am that I have the ability to work my wobbly bits at all. I’m also grateful I never invested in a full-length mirror for my bedroom. I used to want one and now I know better. I don’t. I really, really don’t.

PS If you missed my first post about Beatbox, you can find it here. if you haven’t tried Beatbox, please come!!


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The Scariest Place on Earth


After several weeks off from writing, this chair is giving me anxiety. It’s the same feeling I get any time I take off from working out. When I’m working out consistently I feel great. I feel strong. I feel better about myself. Then I get busy, take a few weeks off, make excuses, and before I know it, i feel completely out of shape with no desire to go to an exercise class. I know I need to but I know what awaits me on the other side. The other side is going to be hard. It’s going to leave me sore in places I didn’t know could be sore. I’m going to sweat which means I, inevitably, will have to shower and rinse my hair (Ladies, you know what a task this is.)

Writing feels like this sometimes. When I’m in the groove, it can be amazing. I feel like my brain is buzzing with ideas and my fingers aren’t quick enough to type the words. Then I slack off for a bit. Summer comes. My kids are home all the time. I’m busy. I’m tired. I have excuses in spades as to why I can’t find time to write. Then all of a sudden my kids are at camp and I have a few days to myself. I find myself looking at that chair, glaring at it really. Why can’t I drag my tail off the couch and go sit in that chair and write? Because I’m out of practice. Because it’s going to be hard. Because I’m going to have to make my brain form sentences.


Making sentences seems easy. We do it all the time with our mouths. We spew words all day every day like it’s nothing. But try sitting down in front of a computer screen and typing letters to make words which will become sentences. Let me spare you the details and just tell you it can be painful. Keeping my tail in that chair can be painful. This is why I make excuses and avoid that chair like the plague.

But guess what? It’s time to get back in shape. It’s time to make sentences. It’s time to get my butt in that chair. Ok, here goes. Be gentle…


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