Exercise. Ugh. We have a love/hate relationship these days.
By the time I strap my breastfeeding boobs into a sports bra, cover my tummy with a loose fitting tee, pull on my tights, tie up my hair, find a pair of matching, hole-less socks and shove my hooves into my joggers, I’m already exhausted.
This has only really come after having (and keeping) two tiny humans alive – my 10-year-old daughter who thinks she’s 18 and my 1-year-old daughter who thinks she’s a puppy.
With work, sporting commitments, flute lessons, cooking, cleaning, play dates, sleepovers, lions, tigers and bears (oh my), my head, heart and body come last. Every. Single. Time.