I Went To The Gym For The First Time In A While Today, And I Don’t Think I’m Ever Going Back

I wrote a similar blog around this time last year,  which laid the foundation to discussing my yearly tradition of getting/being fat every spring. It’s a vicious cycle that I’ve found myself in, and it’s an unfortunate tradition that I’ve participated in year after year since my athletic days came to an end following my high school graduation.

To my knowledge, there has never been any convincing research done to determine that lack of exercise, eating takeout multiple times a week, and drinking beer causes weight gain. If there is, I must have missed it. Well folks, consider me the brave guinea pig. I have taken yet another one for the team, sacrificing my own health and well-being to definitely conclude that acting like a lazy piece of shit for months on end has negative consequences. Who would have thought? Certainly not I. Here’s what I looked like when I awoke from my winter hibernation, still somehow surprised that I had a beer gut for the 5th year straight

krabs_rag3do.jpg

Typically, I’m the one who notices my weight gain on my own. I’ll catch a glimpse of myself naked in the mirror or I’ll stare down in the shower and realize I can’t see my dick anymore, leading me to say, “Fuck, time to hit the gym again”. But this year, my wake up call of my own fatness came from an unfamiliar source. My aunt uploaded a Facebook picture of one of my cousins that I haven’t seen in about 2 years. For lack of a better term, he was always the fat cousin while we were growing up. Well that all changed apparently, because he’s skinny now and looks like he’s been running marathons and shit.

Seeing this made me spit out my breakfast (Leftover pizza and a large iced coffee with the works). It felt like I was staring at a UFO or something, I just couldn’t believe how skinny he’d gotten. It made me feel great for him because he was finally able to shed the weight that he’s basically had his whole life, but it made me feel like the fat piece of shit that I am. Motivated, I decided to head to the gym for the first time since last fall.

Going to the gym for the first time after a long hiatus is about as fun as getting attacked by a colony of bees. In fact, I think that would have left my body feeling less sore than I do right now. I’ve never felt comfortable working out in a gym, even when I was in good shape. There’s just something about the judging eyes of everybody else that makes me feel like whatever I’m doing isn’t good enough and that I’m a giant pussy. My local gym is slowly turning into one of those cross-fit workout places, so everybody else is in better shape than a perfect circle. This sucks because while I’m gassed after a 2-3 bout with the treadmill, Johnny Crossfit is in the corner doing stuff that looks like he’s auditioning to be a stuntman in the next big action movie.

Given that it’s a Saturday, the place was pretty crowded. There was usually a wait for some of the more popular machines, and while I was waiting in line to use them, people would get in line behind me and give me a look that said, “Are you sure?”. The worst part was they were 100% right. I’m a lost cause that should be lifting handfuls of chips into my mouth, not lifting weights in a gym. I think the most fulfilling workout I got today was when I sprinted out of there, and I think I pulled both of my hamstrings doing so.

So that’s that. I have emerged from yet another beer and food filled hibernation that has left me looking a few months pregnant, and I don’t know what I’m gonna do. Dieting sucks, exercising sucks, but being out of breath walking up a flight of stairs sucks even worse. I gave the gym a shot, but I think (And I say this without even the slightest bit of hyperbole) that I would rather disembowel myself by sticking my arm up my own asshole than go back to the gym. All I did today was run a few miles on the treadmill, some free weight reps, and some time on the elliptical, yet my body feels like I fell and rolled down the side of a thorn and rock covered mountain. Never again.

If anybody has any good suggestions for losing weight that doesn’t involve me doing any physical activity, I’m all ears. As of now, I’m leaning toward either purposefully infesting myself with tapeworms, or heading to Chinatown to find somebody willing to give me a black market liposuction. Both are solid options, and only time will tell where I go with this one.

Alright, enough for now. I’ve got some Stanley Cup Hockey to watch. Let’s go Bruins, and if you want the Blues to win, just know that your mother is a syphilis ridden whore. No offense.

PS: When I wrote my previous “I’m Getting Fat” blog that I linked at the top of this blog, some crazy Vegan lady started fighting with me in the comment section and I suggest giving that a read. Dear Anonymous Vegan Lady: If you still follow my blog, please leave another comment. I’m bored and down for another discussion. Just face it lady, we’re made for eachother. I think I love you

 

 

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