So today I was finally lured over to the Dark Side. I spent my entire life trying to escape its clawing tentacles but I was worn down and it was easier to succumb than to continue fighting. I am still vehemently and morally opposed but as I have sold out, I have lost all credibility and for that I apologize.
I am sorry to report that I have, against my will and probably illegally, been forced to . . . join a gym! I know, I made it my mission in life to rail against the forces touting the benefits of exercise and laughed in the face of facts “proving” that physical exertion is good for the body, mind and soul. Unfortunately, it’s been getting harder and harder to shuffle from the sofa to the brownies in the kitchen and when dots started floating in front of my eyes whenever I heaved myself out of the car, steps had to be taken.
Fortunately (or unfortunately depending on your point of view) Daughter #1 is a fitness guru. She ever so logically (I hate logic) and with hypnotic slight-of-hand (still trying to figure it out) convinced me that getting in shape is a noble endeavor guaranteed to make me feel energetic and healthy and stem the march of time on my poor, old body.
Today we went to the local national chain gym and before I knew it, we had signed up for an eighteen month membership! Yes, eighteen months! Two minutes after that, she’s got me doing lunges and some bird thing and lifting weights and that’s just the warm up! The next twenty minutes passed in a blur she called Workout 1A. Apparently there are at least eight different workouts all with an undetermined amount of letters.
Much to my surprise, I was able to keep up and though I shudder to admit it, I felt pretty good afterwards! I basked in the afterglow of post workout euphoria as I drove home and thought, hey, maybe there IS something to this exercise thing. . .
Then I got home. And climbed up the seven steps to the upper level of my bi-level. And remembered why I despise exercising. Every muscle in my body screamed in agony. Muscles I didn’t even know I had. Muscles that didn’t even belong to me! After a really hot shower I felt better and was feeling kinda proud of my accomplishment. Then Daughter #1 dropped the bomb. She said, “After a three or four years (ok, weeks) of doing these workouts three times a week, you will feel lots better.”
Um, what?!? You mean I have to go back? Like, all the time?!? I didn’t sign up for that! Well, I guess I did but I didn’t know what I was doing. I was framed! I was tricked! I was bamboozled by my own flesh and blood!
Sigh. I guess the only thing I can do is accept the fact that I’m now doomed to be buff, toned, youthful and healthy . . . I’ll trade you for a brownie . . .