The Work Out: Day 2-It Already Hurts
I joined a gym on Saturday. It was a moment of weakness and I wasn't thinking clearly. I was hungover and stank of whisky sweat and cigarettes and I woke up at 7 in the morning to take a piss that lasted too long. I stayed up. I went out for coffee. Half an hour later I'm online staring at a membership deal for the gym a few blocks away. Then I signed up.
Joining a gym is a foolish thing to do. Gym's exist to take money from people like me. People out of shape and either lazy or content enough to not doing anything about, but silly enough to think a monetary punishment will make the difference. My membership works out to about a buck and change every day for each month. Not a lot on the face of things, but it does make me consider the things I could buy that would bring me moderately more joy on a temporary basis
1 Comics.
2 Booze.
3 My list stops there.
Anyway, a buck a day is nothing. But only if I make it work for me. I don't have to go in everyday, or stay there for hours on end in an attempt to become a meat head. I do, however, need to make this investment work for me. Which means I have to get in there and acclimate myself to working out again. so one hour at a time, that's what I'm doing.
And god does it already hurt. My old, fat body hates me. And it should. I've been a dick. I drink too much liquor, smoke too heavily, sleep too little, eat too much of the wrong things, and sit still for too long. I've done this to myself. I'm a short, fat man waddling around with short breath and man titties that jiggle if I laugh to hard. And to change all that I've got to accept a little pain for the time being.