She's tiny, and she's black. Simultaneously cute and sexy. And snooty. She taunts me. Hangs out in my closet...and beckons me to put her on just one more time.

She's my favorite little black dress. I wore her for a New Year's Eve party twenty-five years ago. My birthday.

Today, after officially completing my second week of bootcamp ever, I tried her on again. For the first time in decades.

Not because I expected to be able to pull the zipper all the way up. But because I dare to think it will soon be possible.

And when that happens--whether on this upcoming birthday or sometime afterwards--I'll be more fit and in better shape then when I originally put her on as a twenty-something-year old.

Now that's just plain cool.

And it helps me get over the indignity I suffered when I fell on top of another bootcamper today. I was supposed to jump over her while she held a plank. I was fine for the first several jumps. But then fatigue took over.

She was so nice about it. Everyone was nice. They wanted to make sure I didn't get hurt. But I did. Just not in the way they thought. No muscle was injured. No bone was hit. No scrape or burn. I bruised something much more fragile.

My ego.

Oh well. Gotta keep on going. Because today my ears didn't plug up. And I actually enjoyed some of the session. It felt good to stretch out my legs while doing walking squats.

And best of all, I noticed the tiniest, ever-so-slight mark of definition on my puny biceps while doing curls with my five-pound weights. Wow.