I ate a 1-pound bag of candy corn by myself. In two days. This has got to stop.
Today’s good deed: GET SOME EXERCISE
I love watching The Biggest Loser while eating horrible food. It’s wrong I know, but I just love it. They do push ups and cry; I eat strawberry cheesecake and cheer them on. It’s a vicious, entertaining cycle.
I look down one day and realize that I’m starting to resemble the extra-large Tootsie Roll I’m trying to shove into my mouth. Woof. I need to do something about this.
I know all the benefits of regular exercise; it’s just hard getting off the couch. If my apartment were above a gym I could still find an excuse not to go. I’ve just got to suck it up and move my butt.
I buy a Groupon for a two-month gym membership … and keep it for a month. I FINALLY decide to start my training with a Zumba class. I can do that. How hard can it be to dance around to J-Lo songs?
22 minutes later …
Are you kidding me?! My legs are like, “F*$# you, B!@*%!! Ain’t nobody ask you to do this!” (My legs are quite rude and never use proper grammar.)
Not only am I exhausted, I look really awkward in the outfit I’m wearing. All of the other women are wearing leggings and coordinating tops. They look cute, cool and comfortable. I look like SpongeBob’s unwieldy little sister, SpudBarb FlarePants.
I can barely see through my own sweat. My feet are starting to become numb. I’m hoping I haven’t pooped my pants. I want to give up but the 67-year-old grandmother next to me is still rocking it out. I have to hang tough.
This is for the birds. Thin, healthy, coordinated birds. The only thing going through my mind right now is how much an oxygen tank costs and if I can have it delivered to the gym.
8, 7, 6, please hurry, 5, 4, 3, I’m dying, 2, 1! Woo-hoo!!! Thank the Lord! I’m done! Time for the cool down. Two of the sweetest words in the English language: cool down. That and “Burgess Meredith.”
I’m home. I survived. I’m happy I did it. Now that I’ve exercised I don’t really want to eat as much junk. I want to sleep for 3 days, but I certainly don’t want to destroy all the hard work I just did.
Zumba was actually fun. The instructor was motivating, my fellow classmates were supportive and I got my Latin groove on, that is, when I didn’t think I was going to pass out.
This is something I can do. If the 67-year-old granny can do it, SpudBarb FlarePants can. Will I go back to watching The Biggest Loser? Absolutely. But from now on I’ll watch it with a little less cheesecake and a little more commiseration.
Photo (Flickr CC) by m01229
Holly Walker
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