The Eye of the Tiger

So we're back from the beach, and aside from an unsightly rash and an overindulgence in overpriced fried seafood, all is well.

We had big fun. Huge fun.

And now Coach and I have to get serious about this weight loss thing. My 20 year reunion is coming up, and, well- you know what that means.

Anyhoo, I told you that we saw Coach's college roommate while we were passing through Mobile.

Well, we had to get another baby fix on our way out, and apparently Coach's roomie had gotten him some "exercise pants" while they were in Brazil. (Roomie's wife is from Rio and they visit there fairly often- well, as often as two doctors trying to finish residency can- which is totally beside the point)

So, back to the pants. Well, just take a look:

Coach is not a small man- and I don't mean he's obese- he's just not small. He certainly wouldn't pass for someone of Latin descent.

It's a bit reminiscent of when we took the cruise for our honeymoon and Coach forgot khaki pants. After 3 nights of looking "like a tool" (his words NOT mine) in suit pants and golf shirts, he decided to look for khaki pants...

In Mexico...

Where he is practically a giant.

And he wore a bright purple LSU baseball shirt with the word "Tigers" emblazoned on the front. So we spent all day at the marketplace in Cozumel with little Mexican men yelling out "Hey Tiger, you wanna see what I got?"

And they weren't talking to me.

But back to the pants. Why no picture of the front? Well, the picture doesn't really do the snugness of the fit justice.

Let's just say that posting a picture with Coach facing the camera would teeter heavily on the line of legality.

"But Babe" he says, "these are Capoeira pants (pronounced kapowara)- they're Brazilian Dance Fighting Pants. These babies are bad."

Whatever dude, they're yoga pants, but you call them what you want.

And tomorrow we'll begin our exercise regime- me in yoga pants and Coach in his...

yoga pants.

See y'all!