First of all, I am super stoked that I hit 1,000 subscribers today, my little muffins! So thanks for reading and loving me (or hate-reading my blog, though I don’t know if that’s a thing…) and making my life that little bit better. Moving on…
I gained a
million few pounds in the last two years. It’s not a huge deal, except that I can’t fit into any of my pants. Or shirts. Or coats. Basically, I can’t fit into my clothes anymore, and it’s a really depressing feeling. I have shed many a tear over favorite dresses that can no longer squeeze themselves over my now-large lady bits. When I say lady bits, I mean my boobs, y’all, not my nether regions. Calm down.
Anyway, since I got home from school two weeks ago, I have started eating really well (so much salad, so little time) and going to the gym 6 days a week. Remember, weeks are 7 days long, so that’s pretty impressive for a person who barely likes doing a sit up at home, let alone in a crowded gym. I am seriously committed to losing what Sarah Millican so rightly called the “cake shelf” because it’s “where I store my cakes.”
I have lost 7 lbs already, y’all. That is what the British would call “half a stone.” So I’m doin’ it, ladies and gentlemen. Doin’ it good. But. I hate the gym. So. Much.
How is my lumpy self supposed to work out when Wonder Woman is running at 100 mph next to me on the tread mill? As I hoof along, she’s practically flying on wings of glory, making me look like a sad sack of sweaty potatoes, and it’s a bit difficult to concentrate when you 1) can’t breathe and 2) now hate yourself and everyone else in the gym. Also, what’s with people wearing so much makeup to the gym? I look like a 15 year old boy, and my hair is all nasty, because that’s what you should look like at the gym. I’m not gonna put on makeup at 9 in the morning just so I can sweat it into my eyes. Besides, I’ll have to shower afterward anyway, because really, nobody wants to smell this after 45 minutes of elliptical/weights/abs madness. Plus, everyone at the gym judges you when you don’t look perfect, but…am I supposed to work out before my workout so I can be fit as a fiddle and look perfect at the gym? I thought that would be defeating the purpose…
With all this in mind, I’d like to propose separate gyms for different body types. Short, tiny, skinny people who used to be gymnasts can go to one gym, where all the equipment is miniature. Bros who want to work on their pecs and have their nipples pierced (it’s a thing, guys, I saw it with my own eyes and now I can never go back) can go to another gym, where the walls are covered with mirrors so they can look at themselves while they “get swoll.” And those of us who are going to the gym because we need to can have our own gym. There would be no Food Network shows playing, because I don’t need to see some lady with too-white teeth bake a cake I’ll never be able to eat while I sweat out of my eyes on a stationary bike. There would also only be one mirror, and that mirror would be in the weight room so you can make sure your form is right. Otherwise, no mirrors. I cannot be motivated when I look into the mirror and instantly want to cry.
Also, and this might be the most important part, all the guys working behind the front desk would be specifically attracted to women of a curvier persuasion. And they’d all be gorgeous, and I wouldn’t feel weird walking in and talking to them because I would know they wanted to take my hand and by my husband.
Take notes, gym CEOs everywhere. This is the next big thing.