Saturday, October 26, 2013

The Real Story - Exercise

There are people who work out consistently, and people who don't.

There are people who never gain weight, despite the fact they never work out and they eat whatever they want, and there are the rest of us.

There are people who enjoy exercise, and there is the normal, not-crazy, majority of the world.

And the people who never have to work out or watch what they eat to stay the shape and size they want to get dirty looks from the rest of us.

And the people who LOVE going to the gym or going for a run or going to yoga class are usually on the receiving end of silent hatred from the normal people in the world.

Most people don't like to exercise. I know I don't. I hate sweating, especially since I am the kind of girl who sweats till it pools in my belly button. It's gross, and smelly, and I DO NOT enjoy it in any way.

But if I could receive instant gratification from a good hard workout (like, maybe my jeans would fit a little looser the first time I used the stationary bike) (or, maybe my arms would look a little less like flabby, saggy skin, and a little more like Jillian Michaels' biceps after 10 push ups) then I would probably be more prone to working out on a regular basis.

But those things don't happen.

I just get a belly button full of sweat, and my jeans still give me a muffin top.

I don't eat a single dessert, or drink a single sugar-filled soft drink, or eat the bread that comes with a restaurant meal...and I still hold onto the flab in all the places I wish I could shed it.

The Real Story about exercise sucks.

Most of us walk quickly up a flight of stairs and then tell ourselves "that counts as my workout."

I consider house cleaning a workout. And walks with the kids. And (clears throat suggestively) one-on-one time with my husband.

I know people who park at the back end of the Wal-mart parking lot and walk briskly to the store, so that they "got in their exercise for the day."

And if we are honest, we all wish we had one of those muscle-shocking machines that they sell on infomercials. Then we could sit on our butts on the couch and the machine could shock our stomach muscles into flat, six-pack loveliness, and we could avoid sweaty belly buttons altogether.

I secretly wish I could take expensive, magic diet pills, and that they would work.

I DO NOT secretly wish for a personal trainer to get me into shape, because that would require the belly button sweat.

I work out (sometimes) because otherwise I'd have to buy new clothes in a bigger size, and the only thing I hate worse than belly button sweat is trying on jeans in a store dressing room, and not being able to button them.

But, most of the time, I avoid working out, and I also steer clear of full length mirrors, and I try not to look at the size-tags in my clothes.

 I do my best to avoid sugar, which I then use to make myself feel better about the exercise avoidance.

And when I get belly button sweat from walking up and down my stairs...I count that as a workout.

And anyone who doesn't have to work hard to stay the shape and size they want to be should never, EVER, tell the rest of us about it.

And the people who really enjoy a good hard workout shouldn't be allowed to encourage the rest of us to try it. Seriously, keep it to yourself, weirdos.

And THAT is the Real Story about exercise.

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