Today, I went to hell. I don't mean I had a bad day and it all "went to hell". I'm saying I actually woke up this morning, planning to go to hell. I've been told that my version of hell is supposed to be good for you, supposed to make you live longer, feel better, look better....I'm callin' bullcrap on the whole lie people. I admit, I haven't been to hell much in my life but the maybe dozen or more times I've ventured there, I have reaped none of these 'so called' benefits. This week, due to the fact I am gainfully unemployed for the summer, I decided I would start utilizing the membership to hell I paid for almost 6 months ago.
Here is how it went....
Time Stamp: 9:30 a.m.
In bed, looking up at the ceiling, wishing I didn't have to go to hell. I laid there making deals with god. I promised I would never eat another bowl of Ben & Jerrys, in fact I would cease to eat anything at all the rest of my life if he would just remove the tonnage from my waistline without sending me to hell.
Time Stamp: 10:30 a.m.
In my recliner with my laptop checking e-mails. Maybe, just maybe, the school has an emergency and I need to go in and rescue them.
Time Stamp 11:00 a.m.
I've got my tennies on. Thank goodness Maggie is exhausted and resting comfortably on my lap. I mustn't disturb her. I will just surf the internet for a while. Maybe there are some deals out there I missed.
Time Stamp 11:30 a.m.
Did you know they have a lounge at the gym? With a big screen T.V.!?
Time Stamp: Noon-ish
I go upstairs to see my torture apparatus of choice. I refuse to work out if I can't use this machine. It has a 'sit down' seat instead of a regular bike seat. I'm fearful that the regular bike seats might get permanently stuck in my crack. I become hopeful "Maybe someone will already be using it and I will get to go home". Crap! No one within 100 yards of the cardio room. (I also use the excuse that if there are skinny, tanned women in the cardio room, I can't work out because they will make fun of me.)
Time Stamp 12:05 p.m.
I'm on the apparatus from hell.
Some old lady with flip flop sandals, dress shirt, and linen capri's comes in and eyeballs me the entire 25 minutes I'm living in hell. Obviously she wants my machine and I'm prepared to beat her down in order to keep it. Age is not a factor. I want to say "Come to hell in something other than your picnic attire lady and maybe people will take you more seriously." I do become very volatile and mean when I sweat. I'm sure she thinks of me the same way that I look at the tan, skinny women who run the treadmill at a 60% incline on level 15 for 90 minutes.
Time Stamp 12:40 p.m.
Time to refuel.
Hey if they sell this stuff in hell it must help you to reap those benefits they are so adamant about harping on!
Time Stamp 1:15 p.m.
I finally found a small piece of heaven
Yes, I took a picture of myself naked in a tub. Whatevah! I'm looking mighty fine after that workout it would be a shame not to share it with the world.