Bo-Bo Knows Shred Day 3

I'm pretty sure I did both sets of shoulder press lunges with my right leg today. If I don't start keeping track of my starting leg, my thighs run the risk of doing their impersonation of the incredible-demi-hulkette, which might might not be a bad Halloween costume actually:

• normal woman from the left;
• monster who makes young kids cry from the right.

At least I know I'm working my arms fairly evenly--during my post-workout shower, neither of them had enough pep to shampoo and condition my hair without shaking. I can't decide what's more amazing--how tough a workout a set of 3-pound dumbells can give me or that I'm weak enough that lifting a measly 6 pounds over my head repeatedly can turn me into jelly.

In other matters, I do wish Bo would stop watching me workout with such disdain--head down, eyebrows dancing. I tried explaining that I'm not taking any guff from a dog who doesn't have the back-length strength to climb into the car without an assist. He just raised that doggy eyebrow, harumphed, and went fetal. Sleepers never win, Bo. Sleepers never win.