You were wondering when this would come up, weren't you? I've toyed with writing this post at least a dozen times over the past few years. I always talk myself out of it. This time, however, I've decided we're going to get into it. And a lot of you (ladies) are going to agree with me. Here we go...
Exercise. Middle fingers UP.
I can't stress enough how much I don't enjoy exercise. I just don't like it. I don't like lacing up my ugly sneakers (they're really not that bad looking, I just feel heinous in sneakers). I don't like setting aside time that could be spent doing other things (most likely cleaning which has already been done to satisfaction). I don't like sweating or lying on the floor doing ab workouts while my asthma creeps up making me feel disgustingly out of shape. I don't like staring at the wall, pounding feet on a treadmill. I don't wear cutesy workout gear or get all jazzed and smile like the dopey lady in the video. And I do NOT go to the gym. I throw on various combination outfits of black and gray, I stand in front of the television in my bedroom, turn the ceiling fan on high, do what 'the lady' says for thirty minutes, kick my stupid sneakers off and immediately shower. And THEN I feel fantastic.
Yes. Only thirty minutes. Get over it. I just can't commit to anything longer than that and have the routine stick. I've tried it all. Believe me. I've been steadily exercising since I was in my late teens. I have to. I'm 5'1" and built like my Great Aunt Rosie. (No offense, Rosie, you were a lovely woman and a helluva good cook). I will confess that after I had the miscarriage (I had exercised during the first trimester) I didn't do a thing during my second pregnancy. Try to tell me that's not healthy. I'll knock your teeth out. After having Scarlett it took me almost four months before I could do much of anything (due to the C-section recovery). When I started back up I started slow. I rotate twenty different workout routines. Interval training mostly. Aerobics/cardio, weights, toning and stretching. They're only a half hour, true, but they get the job done. Sure, I'm not shedding pounds but I'm not gaining them either. I remain seven pounds less than I was before my pregnancy.
Just yesterday I noticed how tired I've been feeling. I thought about it for a minute and realized that I had slacked a bit on the exercising over the past two weeks. I had just been a good mix of busy and lazy. But man, could I tell the difference. It is amazing how my energy plummets when I'm not faithful. I'd much rather just do the damned thing than feel sluggish. So I continue to fight the lifetime battle.
Most of you are probably surprised to hear that I do any physical activity at all based on my overall appearance. (That sentence is going to piss off my husband - sorry, babe). It's not much of a secret that I have image issues. I'm the one that will bitch you out for tagging me in a facebook photo if I haven't given the thumbs up. I'm incredibly sensitive when it comes to horrible photos. I am constantly cropping out my arms, my forehead and my torso and forever moaning about my double chin. Hey, what can you do? I am willing to bet that 82% of you readers are almost as obsessed as I am. (I suck at math so we're not actually going to calculate that).
I don't know that I'll ever be satisfied with my appearance. I do know that I'll always have to workout in order to keep the rest of Auntie Rosie at bay. Overall, I'm incredibly thankful to be healthy - that's really all that should matter. And all the bitching and moaning about the lunging and squatting just comes with the territory. It's just always going to be that way. I'm never going to hop out of bed, hear the birdies chirping in the sun's warm rays and say, "I'm gonna go for a jog!"
*It is worth noting that if I should ever do that, it's a pretty good sign that I'm having a stroke so react appropriately.