i will owe you a few minutes of your time back if you actually take the time to read this post

7 Jan

Working out is the bane of my existence. I do it three to five times a week depending on the week, but it’s always an endless struggle to finally get myself onto the elliptical. First, I set a goal time for myself. It’s usually at a :00 or :30. My constant mistake is not getting out of my bed to get changed until that time has finally arrived, and then I can’t just get on the machine at an off minute. That would throw off my entire day. Why would I want to do that to myself? Instead, I wait til around the next :15 or :45 and then I fill my water bottle. Again, I am not very good with time management. Prior to working out, I make sure to spend an ample amount of time complaining to several of my friends about how I’m not in the mood to work out. This not only lets them know where I will be for the next hour and a half (or eventual hour and a half, whenever I actually get off my computer), but also lets them know that I am working on my physical fitness and care about my health. In reality, I’m trying to offset all of the cookies and deli meats I ate over the Christmas season. I will never be successful.

Eventually, I drag myself to the work out room, better known as the office. This room makes absolutely no sense. There is a (full) bookcase, a tv, an elliptical, and then all of the shit I brought home from school with me this past May that I never unpacked and just keep in boxes. Now, don’t go thinking I’m lazy and haven’t touched any of my shit from my house in Amherst since May. I go and search through all of the sweaters on probably a daily basis in my endless search to find something that covers my fupa effectively enough. So yeah, I’m not unpacked, but I still use what’s in the boxes. I’m very crafty like that.

I walk to the tv and turn it on, manually, because apparently I live in the colonial age and we are peasants who don’t have a tv remote. It’s actually insulting, I think I deserve more than this when trying to work out. So, not only do I have to turn on the tv manually, but I also have to make sure the volume is at the right level. Otherwise, I have to get up during my workout, waste 9 seconds on the machine, and fix it. You don’t even want to get me started on when I finish a disc of whatever show I’m watching and switch it with a new one. On my walk back to the elliptical, I take a moment to look in the stand-up mirror we have in the room. What I once thought to be a skinny mirror, I now have come to the realization that the mirror itself was never making me look skinnier, I just was skinnier. So I spend a good ten minutes before the workout crying about the fact that this mirror I once thought makes me look skinny no longer does that. And if it is actually a skinny mirror, I am thoroughly disappointed with it. Way to not build up my self-esteem, devil mirror. I swear I’d land in a portal to hell if I stuck my hand through it.

Now, it is time to get on the machine. After licking away all of my tears as they roll down my face since they are salty and remind me of food, I get on the elliptical. I have perfected the art of turning on the dvd player to where I last left off on the show I am watching, while pedaling forward at the same time and adjusting the settings for my workout. It’s really something astounding to witness, I would assume. I wouldn’t know for a fact since I am the one doing the act, but I’m sure it’s impressive. Roughly two minutes into workout, I will text a friend, usually Lauren, telling her how much I hate working out and how boring it is. After that, I will most likely tweet the same exact thought, rendering my private text to her useless. About a minute after that, I will text Lauren again, telling her a quote from whatever show I am watching, more likely than not “30 Rock”. Throughout the workout, I make sure to tweet every single line that is 140 characters or less that make me laugh, just so others can know the things that I find funny. They don’t get much of a response, which I think is cruel. I’m providing humor for the masses, yet I earn no respect from anyone.

I’ve noticed from years of going to an actual gym, and not just the “office” of my house, that people tend to cover the time up on their machine with a towel or something, because that way they don’t focus on how long they’ve been working out or how much longer they have left, and so they actually work out effectively. Since I’m mentally unstable, I have strict times that I change settings and drink water. For example, every ten minutes, I switch from either pedaling forwards to pedaling backwards, or vice versa. Every fifteen minutes, I go up a level on my resistance, until the last fifteen minutes of my workout, in which I go down one. At every increment of ten minutes after 2 minutes, I drink water. But, not right at the 2. It has to be after 30 seconds. So at 12:36 I’ll take a sip, or 32:44. It’s extremely normal of me. Also, I make it a habit to check instagram and Facebook every ten minutes, just to see that nothing’s changed. More often than not, nothing has changed. But I can’t chance missing something big happening because I was too busy working out. Oh, also, I make it a point to immediately want any food that any character is eating on the show I am watching, usually that is pizza, and then tweet about that. Really, what I’m getting at here is that my twitter is extremely interesting and I convey a large range of thoughts on life.

Generally, I work out for an hour and a half. However, if I’m on a time crunch, I’ll cut it down to one hour, or if I feel extremely large and in charge and extra chunky yet funky, I’ll bump it up to two hours. I sound insane and I have a miserable time, but it makes me feel better in some small, insignificant way. I read once that you’re only supposed to work out for one hour at a time or some shit like that, but I say fuck that because I’ve tricked my brain into thinking I’m doing a great job, and I deserve the praise.

Once my bonding time with the elliptical has ended, I press “stop” on the dvd player (luckily we have a remote for that), turn off the machine, manually turn off the tv (waste of time), and leave behind the memories that we have just shared. From there, I tend to just stew in my own filth while catching up on Perez Hilton and Buzzfeed articles. It’s really exciting, and I suggest everyone take the time out of their life to become me for one day. You’ll learn to hate yourself a little bit more, and I think that’s what America needs.


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