Put your mind to it, go for it… get down and break a sweat!

A decision has been made.

I’m going back to the gym. Seriously. Like I might even go tomorrow, that’s how serious about this I am. I MEAN IT.

Although knowing me and my inherent lack of grace, this will probably happen:



I feel like when I go to the gym on a regular basis, I make healthier lifestyle choices overall. When I wheeze away on the treadmill for an hour and witness just how much friggen effort it takes to burn a measly 250 calories, it makes me think twice about the things I put in my mouth to consume those 250 calories to begin with. For example, right now I am eating Tropical Skittles and washing them down with a Lipton Brisk iced tea. If I was actively participating in the gym membership I’ve retained for the past two years, I’d probably forgo my 370 calorie, sugar laden afternoon snack. Especially whereas I just had a BLT for lunch. And a Dunkin Flatbread with hash browns a few hours before that for breakfast. And Burger King mozzarella sticks around midnight last night because I had like six beers while at dinner (which by the way was a TGI Friday’s Chicken Sandwich with French fries) and therefore had the drunken munchies. See what I mean?

I bet some of you are suspicious that I am getting advertising revenue for all the fast food name dropping going on in this post, but alas no... that's actually what I've eaten in the last 17 hours. The "Old Me" would have thought it's okay because I popped a multivitamin at some point therefore I was "healthy". The "New Me" is mentally doing the caloric equations and is alarmed at the realization that a week straight spent on a treadmill wouldn’t burn that shit off.

Ever since I hit my late 20’s things have just gone downhill. Granted I don’t always make the healthiest choices, but I feel like my lifestyle is starting to take its toll on me. I’m tired all the time, my jeans don’t fit, I’m miserable because my jeans don’t fit etc. I eat more because I'm miserable because my jeans don't fit. It's a vicious cycle, really.

I’m not really sure what brought me to this monumental crossroads, but for once I’m going to choose the path less traveled. No longer will I stand idly by and let Planet Fitness take $20 a month out of my bank account to pay for nothing more than a tag hanging from my key chain. I’m going to USE that key tag, chin held high and proud when I walk in there at night, leotard on, sweat band around forehead, leg warmers scrunched just so. Maybe instead of just getting the polite smile, they might even start to remember my name if I become a regular. As a matter of fact, I may become such a professional gym-goer that someday I might finally understand how the hell you work that stupid heartrate monitor thing without the screen flashing and beeping at me every thirty seconds demanding I put my hands on the sensors.

Hell, I might even eat a vegetable.

One that’s NOT on my burger or in my steakbomb that is.

Wish me luck.