I hate to excercise. Hate sweating, hate panting, hate jiggling where I shouldn’t jiggle, hate being weak, hate seeing myself compared to others who like to excercise, hate workout clothes because the shorts are always too short and the tops always too tight. I hate carving out time to go to a gym.
At this point it’s fair to ask me, Want some cheese to go with that WHINE?
I do whine about excercising, admittedly. It’s not attractive to whine. It’s also not attractive to pout but I do that too. Yesterday I stood defiantly with my chunky arms crossed stubbornly across my chest as my husband and workout partner demonstrated a machine. In my defense, this machine required one to hoist themselves off the ground using only their arms. To perch on their forearms while grasping tiny little handles and then pull their knees to their chest using their own body as resistance. No way. No how. First of all I don’t think I could hoist my considerably sized self up that high. Second I am pretty confident that I would not have been able to hold myself up. Third point-I don’t know that my knees will go to my chest and I certainly didn’t want to test that theory in front of a crowd. Especially a crowd of Venice-Beach-wannabes. No way. No how. So I pouted. Almost got to the point of stomping my foot in true tantrum fashion but was able to restrain myself. We moved away from said device to the novice devices that I could operate. Whew.
So I am whining, pouting and griping about excercising but…drum roll please…I am doing it. 2 weeks now of project DEVELOP A NEW ROUTINE.