Went to the gym today.
Can’t stand it.
Nevertheless, I’m hoping the “Do Something 21 Days and It Becomes a Habit” thing will kick in. Now, I have, like, 15 more days to go.
I really don’t like to exercise. At all.
From a logical standpoint, I certainly see the short and long-term health benefits of exercise. Avoiding chunkiness and heart disease is good. Thumbs up to not dying young.
To me, exercise is akin to brushing your teeth. You brush your teeth so you won’t have to suck your dinner through a straw when you’re in your twilight years. You don’t brush your teeth because it gives you near-orgasmic pleasure, as toothpaste commercials would have you believe.
So, I exercise. But I hate it.
I like sneaky exercise – the kind that’s so fun you don’t even know that you’re (gasp!) getting fit. Dancing lessons are kind of like that for me or dominating the dance floor with your girlfriends. So is power shopping.
I’m also not that into gym culture.
If you ever met me in person, you would probably think me talkative and pleasant. Not so in a gym. I embrace my prickly loner side. I focus all my energies on doing my stuff so I can get out of there as fast as my well-worn sneakers will take me. If someone even begins posturing like they want to start a chat, I give them the look that says “Do you really want to talk to my sweaty ass? I wouldn’t advise it.”
Even though I exude the warmth of a convicted felon, I still get a lot of requests for help – particularly from mature women. My size 16 workout gear should pretty much indicate that I’m not a trainer. Just to be sure, I tell them I’m not a gym employee and offer to get them a trained person to assist. Nevertheless,“Hey,” I’ll hear from somewhere behind me, “Is this what you do with this thingie?” as the gal contorts painfully on a machine. I step in, help out and act politely. She’ll do about 3 reps, stop and take a big gulp of water. The second I walk away I hear, “Can you show me how to use this other one now? It looks like something my gynecologist would use!” (Silent scream.)
I’m already gearing up for tomorrow. Oy.
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