I am Going to the Gym...

Today is not going to be a day of leisure as days past. Today is different. Today I’m dragging my butt to the gym. Oh man, I hate the gym. I would rather have a root canal than go to the gym, or even better yet play Russian roulette than drop some sweat of on the gym floor.

I will be the first to admit that I’m lazy. I even own a Lazyboy recliner. The way I figure it is this: if the guys at Lazyboy wanted their customers to go to the gym, and be active they would have called their recliners ‘Get-off-your-butt-and-do-something-already’ recliners.

How did I get myself caught up in this mess? It all started yesterday when a friend of mine came over for tea. (Bad sign when friends come over for tea instead of Starbucks. That should’ve tipped me off right there.) My friend is young but having some medical issues, and her dumb doctor told her she needs to exercise to cure her ills. What happened to modern medicine? Isn’t there a pill she can take? I hate voodoo remedies. Anyway she asked if I would workout with her, and since I don't want her to be afflicted with pain anymore I said yes. (Plus she knows my days are flexible.)

Here’s the thing; AFTER I said sure. (And by the way I was sitting comfortably in my Lazyboy recliner.) She told me we would be enjoying the gym’s facilities for two hours each time we went. Excuse me? Can’t you see that I’m lazy? But since I don’t want her to have massive pain, and it probably wouldn’t hurt me to go to the gym I agreed to her two hour Nazi regiment.

I’m all packed and ready to go: I have my cute pink water bottle, a towel, my Cosmo for the exercise bike, my Ipod for the treadmill and elliptical machine, and my medical ID bracelet… just in case.

*I know that once I'm there I will be glad that I went. And did you know that once upon a time I was addicted to going to the gym? It's so strange that the addiction was so easy to break. Weird.