I wish I could say that I have a love hate relationship with going to the gym…and with diets. Unfortunately, there is no love to be found. It’s mostly a lot of hate. Going to the gym gets me about as excited as watching Ryan clean his rifle. And diets? I mean, who truly looks forward to those? You know that saying, “Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels”? Yeah. That line is crap. Cause I can tell you about a dozen things that taste way better than 45 burpees and 500 squats. In short, I have tried just about every diet on the planet. Before you start thinking it, yes, I have also tried every “lifestyle” change in terms of eating. I get it. I can’t eat nachos and drink champagne and expect to look like Blake Lively. And because of the sensitive world we live in, I feel like even though I shouldn’t have to, I want to remind you that this was written to entertain and hopefully make a few people laugh. As women, we put so much pressure on ourselves and the purpose of this blog post is just to show that many of us are a lot more alike than we think. I do not endorse crash dieting or binge eating…I just enjoy telling stories and using humor to share some of my own personal struggles. This isn’t a cry for help or a pity post. It’s. For. Humor. So whether you’re a gym rat with abs that can bounce quarters, or you get winded doing laundry, blend up that protein shake or grab a cocktail and enjoy…  

I think back to my 20’s and how easy it was to drop a few lbs. Kim is one of my oldest friends and back in the day, we were the experts on getting skinny quick. Atkins was our go to all through college. Remember that one? No carbs allowed, but feel free to eat a steer with a side of bacon for breakfast. In the summer, our days consisted of laying out on her trampoline absorbing as many cancer rays as possible (cause tan fat looks better than pale fat), then going to the gym and spending an hour on our favorite machine, the elliptical. Yes, I said an hour. For food, we ate string cheese wrapped in turkey, and then just before we felt like we were going to pass out, we would eat a spoonful of peanut butter. Oh and if one of us was going through a breakup…that was almost like hitting the jackpot. Because then you were too depressed to even eat the damn peanut butter, but when you arrived at the gym, your “I’ll make him regret that decision” adrenaline kicked in and you burned twice the calories. I mean, I may or may not have been known to cry on an elliptical listening to Bryan Adams. Boom. 15 lbs gone. Does it really get any more ridiculous than that? Today, I listen to a Bryan Adams song and my hormones start raging like I’m 7 months pregnant and I gain 15 pounds just looking at food. Kim and I still enjoy “activities” together, except now we go to Costco and instead of chatting about our next gym sesh, we’re laughing hysterically in the parking lot, challenging ourselves to see if we can finish the gigantic soft serve ice cream we got after checking out. How does this even happen? I guess when you’re in your mid 30’s, you marry brothers who are kind and love you just the way you are, and between the two of you have seven children and two thyroid problems, thus begins the downward spiral of the pre-baby bod.          

At 34, let me just be incredibly candid about what goes through my brain and what my life looks like each and every time I decide I am going to start working out and eating well. For starters, it always starts on a Monday. Ridiculous I know. But every freaking time, I somehow convince myself that starting fresh on a Monday will get me off on the right foot. In reality, I usually make this decision on a Tuesday so that I can give myself permission to binge eat for the next five days straight. And is it just me, or does anyone else do this and then use that free pass to consume every calorie humanly possible until Monday morning? I will purposely choose food options that could probably sustain my body for a week and tell myself, “Let’s really enjoy this, cause come Monday, you won’t get to indulge anymore.” It’s the most backwards rationalization on the planet, yet I’ve told myself this line for about a decade.

Trying to start a gym routine is equally as pathetic. A few days before, because gym days start on Mondays as well, I spend a fortune on workout clothes. I once told Ryan, “I just know that I will want to workout because I have all these cute outfits.” God bless that man for not audibly choking on his laughter. Once I arrive at the gym, (in my town alone I have held three separate memberships) I walk straight to my old friend the elliptical and hop on. Approximately 4 minutes in, I’m bored. And tired. So I tell myself, “Ok. 15 minutes on the elliptical, 15 on the treadmill. That will mix it up.” Then I crank up my gangster rap and get to steppin. Midway through my second Tyga song, it inevitably turns into convincing myself to go 10 minutes on each. Then I hop off around the 8 minute mark and skip the treadmill all together. I’m sweating, so it means I’ve done something. Besides, it’s also Monday and I had 13 calories for breakfast so I know I’ve at least burned those off. Next is the weights, at which point, all I’m doing is staring at the lovely mom tummy that my two size too small Lululemon pants are attempting to suck in. I immediately become self conscious that every gym-goer is making fun of me, probably the same way I made fun of moms when I was a snotty 20 year old. Having taught at the local high school doesn’t help my cause as echoes of, “Sula, you were really skinny on your wedding day, what happened?” echo in my brain. I got pregnant 9 weeks later. That’s what happened you little turd. 30 minutes later I’m happily skipping out of that hell hole and while yes, I feel more energized, I’m also planning my next meal.   

The saddest part is…I was a collegiate athlete and we probably burned a minimum of 1,000 calories in those 3 hour, 110 degree practices…but playing volleyball wasn’t work, it was fun. Now, picking up a ball and attempting to play is just laughable. It’s like I hit 30 and my coordination and agility resemble a newborn baby giraffe taking its first steps. Getting old is sooooo fun. I just don’t understand the high people get off the inevitable pain that comes with the gym. It’s like, we do everything in life to steer clear of pain. You have a headache, you take Tylenol. You’re in labor, you get an epidural. But when you’re on the treadmill about to die of a lack of oxygen or you can’t get cereal off the top shelf because your arms are so sore…you go back for more? How does that even make sense?! One time my friend Rachel convinced me to go to the track and do 100 yards of lunges. I physically could NOT sit down to pee for a week. That. Is. Not. Normal.

And please don’t get me wrong, I have the utmost respect for all the gym goers, the yogis, the crossfitters, the P90X-ers. I WISH the gym were my drug of choice and I am insanely jealous of your drive and commitment to going. It’s just that my brain seems to be wired more towards the carbs over the cardio. And don’t even get me started on motivation. I once watched a Facebook video on how motivation is crap because we are genetically designed to take flight from things that cause us pain or anxiety. If we want to start doing things that are uncomfortable, we have to change our mindset. And well, I guess I haven’t found the secret to that quite yet. For running my own business and starting a blog, yes. For eating kale and sweating at Zumba, no. I know. I have the same 24 hours in a day that you do. I’m not claiming I don’t have the time. It’s just, I choose to spend my time dreaming up a new recipe or planning the fantastically hilarious blog post I will write next.

In the end, it’s times like this when I think of people like my friend Crystal who once again inspired this blog post. She recently started going to the gym at some ridiculously early time. Like stupid early. And you know what that resulted in? A foot injury that put her in a walking boot. So the conclusion that I have come to thanks to Crystal, is that when deciding between the nachos and champagne or going to the gym…I will probably always choose the first option. Feel free to join me. Just not on a Monday.