Just F#&@ing Do It Already

I've been meaning to go to the gym. Every day. For about the last six months.

While I've been avoiding the gym, I've also managed to give up my nearly lifelong habit of walking every day, and I've gained back the 10 pounds I lost after giving Dear Husband the boot, plus about five more. Factor that into the 18 hours or so I spend sitting in front of the computer every day, and I've basically turned into a blob.

This fact was driven home last Saturday when I spent the day shopping with my mother. Even though she's 65, Beloved Mother spends more hours at the gym each day than Arnold Schwarzenegger and never lets her weight fluctuate by more than two pounds. Seeing our reflections side by side in all those full-length mirrors was hard, especially since we were roughly the same size for a lot of years.

So today I finally took a tiny step in the right direction. I went to the gym for an hour. I pounded one of those elliptical trainers for half an hour even though I was bored outta my skull after 30 seconds, and did a half-hour of weight training.

I'm going to try for a repeat performance tomorrow, even though my gym makes me feel especially blobby - it's in Hollywood and is packed with 98-pound out-of-work actors that provide even more contrast than Beloved Mother.

I don't know if I'll lose any weight, because I have a marked predilection for tying on the feedbag. But I know I'll feel a lot better both physically and emotionally if I exercise every day. If I can stare down the emaciated actors and my own lack of motivation, it'll be worth it.