I Hate These Work-Out Blues! (Know What I Mean?)

“My crouching tiger, hidden dragon pose is more likely to result in my death.” ~ Yoga Dabbler

Summer is soon upon us and I’m dreading putting on my bikini. I’m not sure what’s worse, the muffin top or thunder thighs? I’m my own worst enemy really. My addiction for beer and burgers has skyrocketed and my doobie-loving friends have me eating munchies on the daily. I’m on a very destructive course, or a certain future of massive obesity. God help me.

Share My Pain..

I know there’s others who share my pain and like the majority of people out there, I loathe working out. I absolutely hate it. In fact, I don’t think there’s a strong enough word to describe how much I abhor the thought of going to the gym. Maybe it’s the negative connotation that accompanies the term “working out” – a forced/mandatory movement.

I’m by no means an overweight individual but I have a lot of wobbly bits that need attention – including my chicken wing arms. I can’t shake a salt shaker without having the flab on my arm jiggle for an additional two minutes after the fact. So now I’m faced with a conundrum. I’ve got relatively two months to get this body suitable for bikini wear and I refuse to pump iron at the gym. Not only is the gym full of steroid eating freaks but it’s uncomfortable being the only person in there sweating profusely while attempting a sit up.

I know what they’re thinking:  “Aw, good for her! At least she’s making an effort.” – Fuck you!

I’ve dabbled in some Yoga which has only proven that my crouching tiger, hidden dragon pose is more likely to result in my death than it is in a better body. I’ve tried the Zumba fitness which to me was only a waste of money considering I do the exact same thing dressed in my underwear in my apartment (beer in hand). I even resulted to ‘At Home’ workouts via YouTube – which got incredibly awkward rather quickly when I noticed by neighbors across the street were tuning in to see the show. Weirdos. I figured in the very least I would get out and do some Jogging which was fine until I developed massive ass cramps from the constant bouncing. Good grief.

The Obvious Answer?

So here we are – bloated and flabby with no inkling on how to solve the problem. I guess the obvious answer would be to cut out the beer and burgers and start inhaling spinach like it’s going out of style. Or maybe look at trying out the buddy system (if only I had eager beaver friends willing and able to work out). Either way, I mustn’t get discouraged. This muffin top hasn’t reached ‘loaf of bread‘ status just yet….so there’s still hope. Right?

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