As anybody can tell you who has seen me do any sort of physical activity--
Skinny don't mean healthy.
I can dry heave after going for a brisk jog...to my kitchen for some ice cream.
So I decided it was time to get in shape, preferably before I turn thirty and my metabolism turns off thereby fulfilling the curse that a witch put on me at my baptism.
You'll be able to eat pizza everyday for thirty years and then you'll gain eight hundred pounds and they'll have to get a crane to lift you out of your house.
The problem is, I hate the idea of going to the gym. Now, I've never actually been to a gym before, but just the thought of going makes me want to hide under a table and kick at anybody who tries to make me come out.
I figured I could avoid the gym by using technology to help me get in shape. After all, it's the age of "There's an app" for that, right? So shouldn't I just be able to use one of the hundreds of fitness apps at my disposal?
Turns out, you can pretty much put a personal trainer on your phone--except not really, because when you exercise without somebody there telling you how to exercise, it's very possible that all you're doing is a lot of nothing.
I've been working out everyday since the first of year, minus the days I took off because there were other things I wanted to do instead (like eating an entire pot of mac and cheese and rediscovering my love of Lincoln Logs), but aside from those twelve days, I've been very diligent, and yet, I still don't have a six pack.
WTF?!?!?!?!?!
Now, it's entirely possible that I'm not actually doing anything when I'm exercising. For one thing, my sit-ups are more like stumble-ups. My push-ups are fall-downs. My mountain-climbers are leave-them-at-the-base-camp-they're-dead-and-frozen-just-don't-forget-to-take-their-money.
I do seem to feel a tad sore after each work-out, but I can't say I experience the sort of pain that lets you know your body is getting ripped and makes you want go get a kale smoothie.
So the question is--Do I keep going or just give up?
I guess the second question could be--Should I just join an actual gym?
But the answer to that question is categorically--No fucking way.
I think I'll just keep doing the work-outs until I get bored with them (which, let's be honest, will probably be February 1st) or until I instinctively figure out how to do them correctly.
Meanwhile, I'm having a lot of fun figuring out shortcuts to all these exercises. How to do them in a way where they don't actually cause me any pain or discomfort.
Cheating, you say?
Sorry, I couldn't hear you. I was too busy doing twenty fall-downs to the sound of the Original Broadway Cast of Dear World.
Try again later.
Skinny don't mean healthy.
I can dry heave after going for a brisk jog...to my kitchen for some ice cream.
So I decided it was time to get in shape, preferably before I turn thirty and my metabolism turns off thereby fulfilling the curse that a witch put on me at my baptism.
You'll be able to eat pizza everyday for thirty years and then you'll gain eight hundred pounds and they'll have to get a crane to lift you out of your house.
The problem is, I hate the idea of going to the gym. Now, I've never actually been to a gym before, but just the thought of going makes me want to hide under a table and kick at anybody who tries to make me come out.
I figured I could avoid the gym by using technology to help me get in shape. After all, it's the age of "There's an app" for that, right? So shouldn't I just be able to use one of the hundreds of fitness apps at my disposal?
Turns out, you can pretty much put a personal trainer on your phone--except not really, because when you exercise without somebody there telling you how to exercise, it's very possible that all you're doing is a lot of nothing.
I've been working out everyday since the first of year, minus the days I took off because there were other things I wanted to do instead (like eating an entire pot of mac and cheese and rediscovering my love of Lincoln Logs), but aside from those twelve days, I've been very diligent, and yet, I still don't have a six pack.
WTF?!?!?!?!?!
Now, it's entirely possible that I'm not actually doing anything when I'm exercising. For one thing, my sit-ups are more like stumble-ups. My push-ups are fall-downs. My mountain-climbers are leave-them-at-the-base-camp-they're-dead-and-frozen-just-don't-forget-to-take-their-money.
I do seem to feel a tad sore after each work-out, but I can't say I experience the sort of pain that lets you know your body is getting ripped and makes you want go get a kale smoothie.
So the question is--Do I keep going or just give up?
I guess the second question could be--Should I just join an actual gym?
But the answer to that question is categorically--No fucking way.
I think I'll just keep doing the work-outs until I get bored with them (which, let's be honest, will probably be February 1st) or until I instinctively figure out how to do them correctly.
Meanwhile, I'm having a lot of fun figuring out shortcuts to all these exercises. How to do them in a way where they don't actually cause me any pain or discomfort.
Cheating, you say?
Sorry, I couldn't hear you. I was too busy doing twenty fall-downs to the sound of the Original Broadway Cast of Dear World.
Try again later.
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