Let's Get Physical?

I have never, ever been a person fond of physical exertion. When people ask me how often I workout or go to the gym, I can only laugh. One of my all-time favorite jokes is that I only run if I’m being chased – which, thankfully, has not ever happened.

And I really don’t understand those people who actually claim to enjoy exercising. Between you and me? I think there’s something wrong with them. I suspect brain damage.

My aversion to all things requiring exercise goes way back. As a child, I abhorred gym class to the point that I’d beg and plead for my mother to write excuse notes for me so I could get out of it. Or I’d just simply fake injuries.

When I got a real injury, I milked it for all its get-out-of-gym-free-card-worthiness. Mom had to write notes then! This strategy became increasingly difficult as I got older though, because gym period became a daily thing once I got to middle school. DAILY. GYM. CLASS. The horror. Oh, the horror.

Thankfully, I was genetically blessed enough to the point where I didn’t have to workout to stay slim. That is perhaps the biggest reason I why never established a regular exercise regime – I just plain didn’t have to. I could eat anything and everything I pleased and I never gained weight. God bless a high metabolism. Thanks, Mom! So why on earth would I bother working out if I didn’t have to? There was TV to watch, dammit!

So that all makes the fact that I recently started working out regularly all the more funny to me. ME! The girl who has always hated gym class and physical exertion. Working out! It’s laughable.

What brought me to this, you ask? Good question. I could say it’s because I’m getting older and I’m not as lucky with that ol’ metabolism as I once was, though I still weigh the same. I could say I’m doing it to simply be healthier. But that’d be a lie. It’s not for my health. It’s not even to “feel better about myself,” because everyone knows that’s crap. No, it’s purely for vain reasons.

Now, I’m certainly not fat by any means, but I fear that my mid-twenties and years of college, beer, and fast foot have finally caught up with me. About a month ago, my mom and I had a picture taken together and I was horrified by my appearance. Now, the women in my family have always been naturally thin, yet when we do gain weight; it’s always been in our stomachs. I am no exception. This has always been easy to hide, camouflage or otherwise pretend didn’t exist though. Well not anymore. Not when the photographic evidence was cruelly staring me in the face and telling me otherwise. I had to act. I had to – GASP! –exercise. I couldn’t avoid it anymore.

But working out for someone like me is not an easy thing to do. Not only because I’m naturally lazy or because of the hatred I’ve cultivated for exercise over the years. No, it goes way beyond that. Let me tell you why this recent workout regime has been nothing but a comedy of errors.

#1. I’m a highly impatient person. I expect immediate gratification. Yes, I am THAT person who does cardio for fifteen minutes and then immediately goes to a mirror to see the results. And I’m actually deluded enough to believe there will be a detectable change. Imagine how annoyed my impatient self gets then.

#2. I hate working out in public. Makes sense, right? Someone who hates exercise in general is not going to want to do it in front of others. I am no exception. Nevermind the fact that I have FREE gym access not only at my apartment complex but also in my office building, I will not do those stupid routines in front of other people.

#3. I have an attention span the size of a flea. I get bored and distracted very easily. I shouldn’t be entrusted to work out alone. I don’t have the discipline or the concentration to do so. I cannot concentrate throughout an entire workout video. I will wander away from the TV. And because my impatient side isn’t seeing results, I feel totally justified in doing so.

#4. I don’t have a large apartment. I have about a 7 by 3 foot space in which to exercise. I also have two cats constantly running around the place. Yeah, like I’m really able to get a quality workout in while I’m trying to prevent stepping on and/or tripping over them and falling and breaking my neck.

#5. Perhaps most difficult of all, I am a perfectionist. Everything has to be just so. I’m like Goldilocks. If it’s not right, I’m not happy. This is really funny when I’m trying to work out along with a DVD or TV workout program that I’ve never done before. I get all mad and discouraged and worried that I’m not doing it right, and think, “If I’m not doing it right, I might as well just not do it.”

It's been just over a month since I've started this little project of mine and I still detect no discernible difference. Which of course annoys me. So with apologies to Olivia Newton John, but people who like getting physical are goddamned morons. And if my body could talk? It'd sound something like this, I imagine:

My knees: "For the love of God, stop jumping around. Please, just stop."

My arms: "Put the weights down! Are you crazy?!"

My heart: "If you don't knock off this whole, 'make me beat faster' thing, I'm going to stop on you, I mean it."

My lungs: "Why do you hate us?"