After some extensive shopping this morning, I swung by the gym. My car does not easily turn into my gym's driveway. We argue extensively about the cleaning, writing or loafing I could be doing instead of going to the gym. But today, the gym won out.
This is a good thing and I wish I was one of those people who could just love the gym. No, really LOVE it. I don't though. I never feel worse afterward, in fact, I almost always feel better. And yet it's still a struggle to put on the running shoes and hit the treadmill.
One of the things I don't particularly like about the gym is the sweating. The beads around the forehead. The dripping down my neck. That very attractive sweat mark on the back of my t-shirt at the end. I am one sweatacular little piggy by the end.
I get that the sweat is a part of the deal and is a good indicator that I'm doing things right, but it never makes me feel all gorgeous as I'm hoofin' along.
Which leads me to this - any time you read any magazine articles on where to meet men, they inevitably tell you to join a gym. This, to me, is some sort of insane troll logic.
Whilst I am working out I look winded, red-faced, sweaty and probably even a tad grumpy. Are these the attributes that today's bachelors are really looking for?
Not to mention, I'm not exactly "on my game" while I'm trying to jog in a straight line on a piece of rubber that is moving. Who in the hell is capable balancing themselves on a moving roadway, winking and saying "Do you come here often?" This is the reason I'm not able to flirt in airports either.
Anyway, I guess I'll continue to fight with my car, hop on the treadmill and god-willing, try to remember my freaking lip gloss. A nice neutral color to go with my sweaty t-shirt and the grumpy look on my face.
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