I hate going to the gym, really hate it. I am signed up at the gym at work and I used to like it, before I got hurt and when I didn’t know anyone. Now I feel very anxious every time I think about going.
Why? It’s all me so these words are not to label or damage anyone, but it is filled with “the beautiful people”. You know, those who have always worked out and never had any major concern about their butt being too big, though they like to act like “normal” people and make statements such as, “My ass is getting so big.” “I can’t believe I ate a whole piece of pizza last night.” “I really need to work out more, I am starting to pooch.” I hate them. Hate is really a strong word, but I do hate what they represent: Something I wish I could be, but am too lazy and genetically faulted to be. So I debate if I should just do it and realize that they don’t even notice me and if they do I am merely reassuring them of their superiority, like a goodwill ambassador from a third world country visiting the States for the first time.
My choices: Workout more at home in the evening, very hard for me to do; Take the dogs for more walks (2 a day) and ride my bike; Just keep hoping. Man, I am really messed in the head with this, a symptom of my last relationship. I have everything I need; shoes, shirt, workout pants. I have the time; it’s a slow day. I have the desire to be healthier. I have the Catholic guilt to make me feel like crap if I don’t go. So, I may as well just do it. Dang it.
Now I have to go. Renee just informed me that we are having very expensive cake for breakfast tomorrow morning. I must pay the piper before I sup on the reward.