I am going to repeat a phrase heard all over the blogospere this month.
I went back to the gym today.
I'd been dragging my ever-widening ass about going because, frankly, I was embarrassed. I hated to show my face there when I hadn't been since October. I hated to show my body there when clearly I hadn't made any progress since September.
But I've got goals, damn it!
I shouldn't have worried. I saw all the regulars and they were all friendly.
And they all looked exactly the same as they did three months ago.
That scares the fuck out of me. If these people who spend every morning at the gym, often with trainers, haven't lost any weight or gained any muscle definition, what chance do I have?
Fuck it. I've got goals, damn it!
I had forgotten how much I like to work out. Oh, I hate the cardio hell as much as the next person. But I love to lift. And I love to listen to my music without any little ears to hear about booty shaking and sex having. I had also forgotten what terrible taste I have in music.
And I had forgotten about how I usually end up having to run into the bathroom as soon as I get there. I'm that girl. That crazy bathroom girl.
But fuck that too. I've got goals, damn it!