Feeling: tired and achey
Listening to: Damien Rice - Delicate
Reading/Watching: Dear Frankie (I forgot how much I love Emily Mortimer)

Okay, so Krynn gave me a gym membership as my wedding gift, right?

Now, every single one of my excuses for not exercising is officially gone.

1) "Not enough time": considering how often I've bitched about being bored and needing more to do with my day, this one's out the window.

2) "I don't really care about my weight": well, we know which farm animal crapped that one out. And with the whole Wedding Dress Mania going on, no one believes it.

3) "The exercise room at the complex is always closed, the machines are always broken," etc.: now I have a gigantic playground of machines to choose from... a playground that's open 24 hours a day.

4) "I really hate exercising": the elliptical machine has seduced me. It's not as boring as a bike or a treadmill, and I can read a book while using it, or watch one of the 8,000 TVs in that place. I've gone twice in two days just to pay a visit to that sassy little machine.

5) "I'd exercise if it were like a real gym where I was paying to use it, but I can't afford that": perhaps I can't, but evidently Krynn can, because she's all crazy and spendthrifty. She can even afford a dozen sessions with a personal trainer named Jen(n) who's disgustingly healthy and cool, and reminds me of my first college roommate Nicole (tan, muscular, laid-back, and maybe a bit ambiguously gay).

So, crap. There's no way out of it now. (I'm actually kind of excited about it, don't let the negativity fool you... it's just cooler if I pretend not to care.)

Comments? 2 so far...
Not a Diaryland member? Sign the Guestbook.