Tuesday, February 19, 2013

i, i, i don't work out

Sometimes I see these smiling, dewy, vibrant girls my age out for a run or doing yoga in the park and I ask myself, how?  How in God's name are these girls having a good time?  They look happy!  They look excited!  They look energized!  I just don't understand it.  I often feel a tremendous sense of guilt that I am young and completely inactive.  When I lose five pounds it's really not because I'm putting in any work.  It's probably because I walked a little more that week, or drank more water or something strange from the cosmos came down and graced me with a gift.  But really, this (motioning to my body) really doesn't require a whole lot of work to maintain.
Now, that being said I am a lucky girl in that I was raised by a mother who is a registered dietitian.  That meant not having any sweets in the house, donating 80% of my trick or treating candy and never, ever, ever and sugary fruit juice.  Essentially, I have been groomed from a very early age to eat well.  Yes, I am a lover of pizza, big cookies and ice cream, but for the most part I eat in moderation and drink about 3 liters of water a day.  
However, I think it's getting to the point where I am becoming one of those skinny fat people trainers on The Biggest Loser always talk about.  I never work out but I maintain my weight and have been the same size for like ten years so I don't ever think about weight loss.  I have insecurities like every woman on the face of the planet but I never have seen working out as a means to addressing those insecurities.  Why you ask?  Because I hate working out.  I loathe it.  When I see people out running on a hot day I scream from my car window, "Why?! Why are you putting yourself through that? You look miserable!"  But lately, I'm starting to feel very bad for being lazy.  Also, I have little to no upper body strength and if any sort so if an apocalyptic situation were to every happen, I would surely be one of those poor souls trampled or too weak to hold on to a rope or something.  
So, I got a gym membership!  Now, I'm not expecting miracles.  I'm one of those people (probably like most) who can't even bare the thought of working out, but once I am I feel great and know it's worth it.  But somehow the next day, as I'm trying to convince myself to go to the gym, I can't even remember that feeling of high I had the previous day or I convince myself that I'm crazy and it probably wasn't that good.  Alas I have joined a gym though.  And my sad little goal is to go three days a week.  I don't know how much I will get accomplished while I'm there.  Will I run?  Will I bike?  Will I do sit ups?  Or will I go very slow on the elliptical machine and watch the latest installment of Real Housewives on the television overhead?  There's no telling!  But I know for certain I will never be one of those glistening, grinning, Lulu Lemon wearing cyborgs.

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