E and I do a lot of things together but working out is not one of them. In fact I hate the idea of working out at all which is unhealthy and bad and I know it. Sometimes I think if I had a 'work out' buddy it would be more fun so once in a blue moon I blame him for this. Blame him for not coming with me to the gym. Yes you. You are to blame for this butt and these thighs.
I also blame all the great outfits. Everyone has these hot gym outfits and I�m always the one with the black cat hair covered leggings, low top orange sneakers and an old ratty Jane�s Addiction T-shirt from 11th grade. I�m convinced people around me are wondering who invited the �gym class extra� from an old John Hughes movie.
My biggest problem of all (besides the butt and thighs) is that I always have gym panic when I go. I never know how to work all the gear and am too ashamed to ask. One time I was �working out� on some complicated gym machine � something with poles, moving ski legs and twisting hips type motion � it was like being thrown into a rusty Cuisinart. The entire time as I plugged away at it I kept thinking, �This can�t be good for me. It just can�t.� About 20 minutes later the buff gym guy behind the counter walked over and said, �Want me to turn that thing on for ya�?
Someone point me to the medicine ball.
Last night�s convo at 3am in the dark,
K: Let�s go to the gym together.
E: (sigh) Here we go again�
K: No seriously. I think it would be so much better than going alone.
E: Yeah. You�ve mentioned that.
K: Come on! It will be fun.
E: �Honey, grab your duffle and soap on a rope! It will be fun!'
K: Plus I never know how to work the machines.
E: So your saying your true motives are for technical support?
K: (flustered) Well...um..maybe.