No wait, that should be GET OFF YOUR FAT LAZY ASS! In a parallel universe this is what I yell every morning to motivate me but in the real world I simply whine about my fat ass and how I have to squeeze them into my favorite pair of jeans. That is on a good day. On a bad day I can't even get my fat ass in the jeans, I break out in a sweat in my tiny walk-in closet figuring out what to wear, clothes are strewn all over the place and Paco runs to the attic and cowers under noise canceling headphones.
I am far from the person that loves the adrenalin of any form of a fitness regimen. The sort of person whose day is not complete with sweating it out, and distressing muscles and joints. I don't feel this horrible guilt when I don't get to go to the gym. Instead I feel blissful, comparable to when I went to brunch and the movies instead of going to school. My mom the teacher must be cursing the computer screen right now, "You what?!?!?!?!" Yep, you read that right.
If I add up the amount of time I have actually stepped foot in the gym it would add up to ...... drum roll please ..... 1 year. One frigging year in all my 37 years. There were also 2.5 years going to a yoga studio. Faithfully I might add. So that is a whopping 3.5 years of being healthy. I totally suck and I should be slapped in the face every time I whine about my fat ass. Karma is the one word I should remember when no amount of jumping, adjusting, inhaling or lying in bed will get those jeans on my fat ass.
I enjoy working out at home where no one can see my flab jiggle, that I cannot touch my toes unless I bend my knees, I can do it in the rattiest shirts and most importantly I can't be called out on for cheating. Even then Jane Fonda, Billy Blanks and Shiva Rea have found themselves in their cases more than actually being played.
But I'm nearing 40 and I have a feeling it is only the beginning of the flab and the belly and the cellulite. Twenty years ago I didn't need to do anything to look good. Of course I thought I was fat then and tortured myself with unhealthy eating and diet pills. Only to burn off all those brunches. Seriously. Yes, I was an idiot. Ten years ago all I needed was a couple of days of dieting to fit into that little dress that made me look so hot. Today if I eat a spoonful of rice I will look 5 months pregnant the next day, my cellulite fornicates like rabbits and multiplies at the speed of my blinking, and I think I've spent too many years not eating cake to not indulge now.
I have a new trainer coming in a Johnny Air box soon. Jillian Michaels. Let's see how long she lasts.