I can't believe I'm admitting this

Every job I'd ever had before I moved to Dallas involved lots of standing or walking around. In fact, the job I had right before I moved to Dallas -- a carhop at Sonic -- was all standing and walking around. Not my job now. No, now I sit in my own office at a desk all day staring at a computer screen. It's really quite fun, except the opposite.

My desire to avoid getting raped because I was dumb enough to try running alone in Dallas at night meant that I was getting pretty much no exercise unless I took the stairs at work. For a while, I tried even taking the stairs to the first floor every time I needed to use the restroom. I was drinking a lot of water and climbing those three flights of stairs down and back up quite a bit. But the bathroom on my floor is much nicer, and women in the first floor bathroom always looked at me funny, like they knew I wasn't a first-floor girl or something.

Well, one day, I was taking the stairs to the first floor when I felt something very unfamiliar. I tried to remember if I'd ever felt it before and had forgotten, or maybe I'd just never paid attention. No, there was something very different: I could feel my butt moving. I'd never even had a butt before -- much less one that fought with gravity when I went down stairs. Horrified at any domino effect this could trigger, I decided to get a gym membership.

I worked out two or three times a week, since I get home kind of late and most weekends I was either going to Louisiana to see K or entertaining him here. The jiggle was still there on the stairs. I decided I'd either never paid attention to notice it before or that it was just some post-college body metamorphosis telling me I was really in the real world.

When K went to Afghanistan, though, I was in Dallas more. I worked out quite a bit more than usual -- sometimes even five times a week (didn't happen too often, though). I even thought it would be fun to work on my gluteal muscles, since K's a butt guy. I figured it'd be a nice surprise when he came back.

I started doing lunges two or three times a week. Not just any lunges -- lunges with 25-pound weights in each hand. Then, I moved to 30.

I did leg exercises. I did the gluteal training on the elliptical. I did the exercise bike from time to time. I could tell a difference, and it was nice to see my hard work paying off.

Well, I just ran downstairs for something today, and as I was climbing back up, I noticed something -- well, the lack of something, I should say. Nothing was jiggling! I found myself smiling wtih pride all the way up the rest of the stairs and all the way down the hall back to my office.

I probably looked like a grinning idiot, but who cares. My ass fought gravity, and it totally won.