(I 'd like to acknowledge my lack of anything craft related. I'm talking online classes this semester and 13 credits online is about 3,297times harder than attending on campus classes.... So TMI's might be all you get from me for the next few months. Sorry about it!)
"TMI: Sometimes I'm so awkward that I want to die"-Edition
Last night I went to the gym.
I hate the gym.
I hate all forms of exercise.
I want to sit on my sofa, watch Netflix and eat Oatmeal Cream Pies all day long.
I'm trying to create better habits. Sometimes I have dreams where I can run really fast and it is awesome. I wish I was a runner in real life. Can someone teach me? But be warned... I am literally slower than your grandma. And I complain... A lot...
Okay, moving on.
(before I start, the gym at my school has a required dress code and certain clothes you are allowed to wear.)
I arrive at the gym with my "Vote for Mickey" bag, toting along my phone, keys, headphones and tablet.
I've got my water.
I recently applied a fresh coat of eye-liner.
Eye-liner had been giving me unexplained confidence lately.
I don't know why.
Punch in my ID code but the dang light won't turn green. There is a line forming behind me.
I can't get through the stupid turn-style-thing.
Person who works there: You have to hit pound after your ID number...
Me: Oh. (turn a slight shade of pink)
Person who works there: (thinking in their head) Here comes some fat mom to the gym. Couldn't be more out of place! The weirdo...
Or at least that is what I think they are saying in their head.
Person who works there: You have to take your jacket off.
Me: Oh. Sorry. (turn even darker shade of pink)
I keep walking while trying to get my jacket off...because of the line of people pouring through the turn-style-thing. I don't want to get run over by the in-shape gym regulars. Their rock hard bodies would squish my jiggly-self with ease.
I realize my jacket has creating a wet fabric-bond to my shirt.
My gym shirt was still wet because I forgot to start my laundry early enough that day.
I peel the jacket off, stuff it into my bag and head towards the treadmill.
I already look like I'm sweating, that the walk there was too much for my out-of-shape-self to handle
(remember? my shirt is wet?)
And I'm walking.
At a pretty fast pace.
I've got my Netflix going, I'm feeling great.
I can do this!
Whew. I am tired. Let's try jogging!
23 seconds later...
And I'm walking.
I bet 20 minutes has past. I am so tired.
I've only been walking for 8 minutes.
Somehow I made it to 45 minutes
Walking with short bursts of jogging.
I walk my jelly-legs off to the
Do you know the kind I am talking about?
There is one bike open. I walk towards it.
A chubby short guy also spots the open bike. And me.
He starts speed walking.
I'm in total shock that this is actually happening.
By the time he gets to the lazy-boy-lean-back bike he is jogging.
I'm a few steps back.
He gives me this weird
"heh-i got here before you" look
and I swear he probably has an awful nasally voice in real life.
And I feel so lame that some chubby short guy beat me to the
that I turned on the spot and left.
I'm convinced every person in the over-crowded gym is snickering at me as I leave.
I freakin' hate the gym.
I should have stayed home with my cookies!
And this morning I am so sore.
But I don't know if that was from my gym-failure
from slipping on ice and falling on my bumbum.
Why am I so lame?!