A Sweaty Old Friend

Yesterday was my maiden voyage to the gym this year. I know, I know... I said it was my new year's resolution. I'm sorry, I lied. I pay a membership for every month. It's only $10, but I still cringe when I see it debited from my account, like a tiny little elf poking me in the side, saying--hey, you paid for this, and you DIDN'T EVEN USE IT!

Oh elf. Leave me alone.

I really enjoy the magical weight loss remedies that present themselves as the solution to all of your weight loss problems. "They're these weird Swedish nutrition bars my mom uses to lose weight. It burns carbs. It just burns up all your carbs."

The solution is no secret, and we all know what it is. Eat right and exercise. I know, I'm one to talk... but come on people! No magical pills are going to do it. Putting foreign chemicals into your body isn't going to help. All we have to do is nom on some veggies and get our booties to the gym, and we'll be good to go. It's easier said than done, trust me--I know.

But I did manage to get back to the gym yesterday. I blew the dust off and creaked open the cobwebbed drawer containing my workout clothes and drove myself there. When I walked in the door, I half expected millions of balloons to fall from the ceiling and a sounding round of applause from the patrons. Thank you! Thank you! *Miss America Wave*

It was like revisiting an old friend. A very sweaty, loud old friend wearing a wifebeater and swishy pants. And it really did feel good to get back; I'm hoping to stay in the game this time and actually use my membership. And the good news is-- I think I waited long enough that I missed the rush of New Year's Resolutioners. See, I totally did it on purpose.