A Snyder In The Sun

A Snyder In The Sun

The Emotinal Rollercoaster That Is The Gym

So you joined the gym?  Awesome!  Yay for you!  I bet you're feeling pretty fucking good about yourself, right?  And you totally should.  It's one of the best choices you've probably made in a while.  Much better than your choice to eat a pint of Ben & Jerry's and binge watch Netflix until the wee hours of the morning.  So pat yourself on the back, for now, because you are about to enter a glass case of emotions my friend, 4 emotions to be exact.

Determination- You have had it with yourself.  Over it.  You need a change.  You are totally fucking gung-ho to work your ass off and get yourself back in shape.  Today is your day!  It's going to be awesome!  You're going to lose those extra pounds that have been haunting you since last (last, let's be honest) winter.  Go out and buy those cute work out clothes.  Lace up your sweet new kicks and put that hair back tight.  Grab your chic water bottle and iPod, because baby, you're about to take the gym by the balls and concur that shit! 

Realization- Oh shit, you're actually at the gym.  Look at all these people.  They look like they know what they're doing.  What is that smell?  Did it smell like that when I signed up?  Is that sweat or ass?  My god, is it always this crowded?  That class in there looks hard!  I don't think my body can twist like that.  Actually I know my shit ain't twisting like that. Is that woman a contortionist for fuck's sake?!  Maybe I'll just start out with some light cardio. Oh it hurts!  I'm sweating like a bastard!  I wonder if they really wash all these towels before handing them out?  Ewww. Working out sucks.  I hate this place.

Depression- I can't believe I signed up for this shit.  I could be sitting home right now eating McGriddles and drinking milk shakes instead of killing myself on this God forsaken treadmill.  If I haven't lost at least 75 pounds by the end of this month, I'm done.  Why can't I just drink wine and eat cheese all day and lose weight?  If I lift the entire bottle to my lips, shouldn't that count as lifting weights?  Why is everything so horrible? I'm going to die here, just die right in the middle of the indoor track and no one is even going to notice. 

Acceptance- This is my life now.  I have a routine.  I am losing weight and feeling better.  My clothes fit again, my head is a little clearer.  I have more energy, finally.  If I stop exercising, I will feel like balls again and find myself attached to my couch watching reruns of The Golden Girls and inhaling croutons like they were potato chips.  Don't judge, they are delicious. But, alas, I made the right choice.  So fuck you exercise, and also, I love you. 





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