Well, I can’t put it off any longer. You know the feeling when there’s something you have to do and you REEEAAALLLYYYY don’t want to do it? Yeah…that’s me…right now. It’s been looming for several days now. And, the clock is running down. In about twenty-five minutes, I have to meet my friend at the gym and…work out. Yes, that’s right. Work out. Ugh… Why do I hate working out so much? Why can’t something that’s SUPPOSEDLY SOOOOO good for you be easier to do? Those italicized, capital letters were meant to convey sarcasm. So, if you didn’t get that, I would ask you to please return and reread that sentence, placing the appropriate amount of whiny derision on those particular words. It’s okay…I’ll wait for you……………………. Okay, I can tell by all those periods that you carried out that assignment swimmingly. So, let’s see…where was…oh right…I hate exercise. I HATE it. I hate every part of it. I hate the beginning part, where you think, “Oh God, I’m just starting and I feel like I’m gonna die.” I also hate the middle part, which involves an enormous amount of sweating (well, if I put any effort into it, that is, which is what exercise enthusiasts say you’re supposed to do and something they seem to LOVE). I super-hate that part. Actually, I DO like the end part, though, where I exit the gym with that superior, “Oh yeah, I’m totally into fitness” look. Side note: I don’t exhibit that look at any time while I’m actually IN the gym, of course. Because those people really ARE totally into fitness. Then, of course, upon returning home, a shower is in order and that’s a rather pleasant because it feels good to wash off all that disgusting sweat and come out smelling all soapy. So, I guess it’s mainly the beginning and the middle part – the actual exercise – that I detest. I can hear you judging me, by the way.
“Well why don’t you try a class, then? You’d probably love a class.” Oh, you think so?? I’ve tried different classes. I went to one called, “Dance Party.” That was such a LIE. There was NOTHING about that class that even closely resembled either dancing OR a party. At all. It was awful. Then I tried yoga because I remember about a hundred years ago I learned a little yoga in my high school gym class. And I remembered loving it. From that experience, I learned that I now HATE yoga. It has the reputation of being all meditation-y and it’s just…well…awful, and yes, a bit torturous. Then, I thought I’d try boxing. I know that probably sounds crazy, coming from a physical fitness reject like myself, but, I thought it sounded cool. It was an introductory class which I was assured was strictly for beginners and women were welcome. I can honestly say I have NEVER, EVER perspired so much in my entire LIFE as I did warming up for boxing. It was worse than awful. It was vile and ghastly and unbearably atrocious (yes, I consulted a thesaurus). No, we amateur boxers never actually hit one another. The pain came from the mean leader who expected to punch those big bags for minutes at a time. MINUTES. Truly barbaric.
So, here’s the thing: I can put off the inevitable no longer. I keep checking my text messages in case my friend has had some emergency which would prevent her from going to the gym. Which, of course, would mean that I, too, would have to put off my work-out regimen until further notice. We are work-out buddies. We never go to the gym alone. Ever. I mean, sometimes she has to work late, or maybe I have car trouble or she has a hair appointment, or I have to organize my sock drawer or it’s too windy outside or… But, dang…no message. Which means I gotta go. I’m supposed to be there in eight minutes….So, yeah, I should probably sign off now. Okay. Wish me luck. Oooohhhh, I’m down to seven minutes. I can’t put it off any longer. Maybe my car will be out of gas….I probably won’t be that lucky…
Life on a Box Wine Budget 