This past week marks the first time I have worked out since July 2013. I have an excuse; at least for the first 9 months of my 17 month sabbatical. I was pregnant with my son, and for numerous reasons, was advised not to exercise. However, for the remaining 8 months each day was accompanied by a new excuse. “The baby was up 3 times last night,” “I ran out of coffee and I can only work out when I drink caffeine” (never mind the 24 pack of Diet Coke in the fridge), or my go-to, “I need to clean the house.” (Because, that takes at least 5 hours.) Well, sometimes it does but that’s not the point. The point is that everyone knows the best clothes of the year come out in the spring, which means I’ve got roughly 4 months and 20lbs standing between me and a pair of seafoam dyed skinny jeans.