Shake your money maker. Or sack of potatoes.

You might recall the lovely Mary's comments on my recent sit-down with Jillian Michaels' 30-Day Shread.

Don't do it! Walk AWAY from the Shred! If you must, watch it again. But whatever you do, do NOT get up off the couch.

I did that stupid workout (Level 1, many modifications of my own, no weights) three times in four days. And I THOUGHT I WAS GOING TO DIE. ... Do it if you want. But you can't say you weren't warned.

I took what she said to heart. Really, I did. On Friday? I didn't even consider doing Shred. I was too busy drinking wine and eating Moo Shu pork.

But Saturday? Saturday, I ventured out in the balmy 1-degree weather to check out these pants I'd had my eye on.

Yeah, you know this isn't going to end well.

The pants in question were cord trousers from J. Jill. And they were on sale. And in cute colors. But I forgot one important thing: J. Jill pants don't fit me. Ever. Under any circumstances. Even with my recent embrace of actually getting clothes altered, J. Jill and I are not a good match. Yesterday's pants were no exception.

You might think that it's impossible for a fairly fit 34-year-old woman to be suddenly transformed into an 83-year-old Depends wearer. You would be mistaken. You obviously have not seen me in J. Jill pants. Seriously. My ass suddenly looked like a sack of potatoes (or two) and my legs, mysteriously, shrunk four inches when I tried on the pants.

I was a bit ... perturbed.

I felt gross. And so? I disregarded Mary's warning. I went home, moved my couch and my coffee table, and proceeded to try to kill myself with Jillian Michaels.

Big shocker, the workout is harder than it looks. Like Mary, I didn't use weights. Like Molly, I hate jumping jacks and modified them with a one-armed flail intended to protect my ample boobage. Like pretty much everyone else who has ever done this workout? I wanted to die.

But I did it. I completed the workout.

All was fine until this morning. I slept until 11:30. I think my Sleeping Beauty-ness was due partly to the remnants of Wretched Cold. But mostly? Mostly, I slept in because I couldn't move my body.

I am sore allllll over. My quads are in such pain that I'm having difficulty both getting down on and up from the toilet seat. Perhaps I actually am an 83-year-old Depends wearer.

I'm trying to stay positive. Perhaps 30-Day Shred is actually 60-Day Shred, with a day off between each workout. Perhaps tomorrow, I'll be able to lift my arms and will suddenly be on my way to such fitness that I'll have the energy to begin my takeover of the evil J. Jill empire.

I'm keeping my fingers crossed. Well, my fingers would be crossed if I could move them into a crossed position.