No. 4 Blog, sweat and tears

I couldn’t think of a better way of rocketing myself out of my comfort zone than by (drumroll, please…) exercising. In the great scope of things, this is quite probably one of the most insignificant things to ever happen, but for me, this is astronomical.

Exercise sucks. Seriously, the only thing more horrid than going to the gym is listening to the akward-looking-and-even-worse-sounding Rebecca Black. And then there's peppy gym folk. Don't even get me started on those freaks...

Gym trauma aside, the fact that I’ve been going to the gym is huge for me. Besides the obvious muscular pain stemming from my mind-boggling lack of physical condition, this has unsuspectedly become quite the mental challenge. Why? Because I have been half-assing it and trying to weasel my way out of this in each and every way possible. And after initially celebrating how I was so smooth that I was getting away with it- BooM. All of a sudden my husband’s dropped a couple of pounds, is back to his ideal weight and I’m still trying to fit my fat ass into jeans while avoiding the dreaded muffin top. Great. Reality check: 1 Me: -5

So it’s back to squat one: realizing a lot of times we think we’re getting away with our bullshit but we’re actually getting owned by it. No matter how many times I listen to the phrase “there’s no such thing as an easy way out”, I cling on to the hope that maybe someday I would find it. And yet 27 years have passed and my GPS still hasn’t picked it up. So rather than sit, sulk and consult with Cherry García, it’s time to whip myself into shape both physically and emotionally.

In order to pump myself up for this, I need some theatrics and so Operation Fat Ass to Hot Ass is born. Congratulations. OFATHA has officially commenced and you guys are part of it. If not by joining in the physical torture, then encouraging comments and/or annoying follow-up questions are appreciated cause here’s the thing. If Imma do this, Imma do it right. I’m not talking losing a couple of inches here and there. I’m not talking losing a couple of pounds. I’m talking about real friggin results because I am sure as hell not enjoying the ride, so the end result better be fantafuckintastic (something attainable, along the lines of Sofía Vergara or such)… :)

Closing thoughts: Maybe I get a six-pack, maybe I drink one. But at least, I started. And, apparently I'm not the only troubled one on the exercising front (cue Brit's performance on GMA...) Not even I look as dead-eyed as her when I hit the gym, so I've finally one-upped Ms. Spears. Now excuse me, it’s time for some Ben-Gay…

1 comment:

  1. hi love. i hope you've been well. I attended a store launch party in Vegas this weekend, love if you'd check out the post. xo