If you’re friends with me on Facebook (and let’s face it, most of you are. I blog under no illusion that I’ve reached a status that doesn’t require solicitation on my part via the social networking site. Unless you count the random views I get from international readers—which I do count. Every day to boost my already weirdly inflated yet extremely fragile ego) you know I was starting an exercise regimen last night.
Despite being temporarily derailed by a multitude of distractions that included requesting catalogs for various department stores online and a labor-intensive, healthy meal (which, by the way, was a little too healthy. I ate a few bites and felt overwhelming dissatisfaction and thought, maybe that’s how insanely healthy eating works—you starve from unhappiness because your food is weird) I actually got up and completed 20 minutes of cardio.
And now I’m waiting on a call from NBC to cast me as the next trainer for "The Biggest Loser" since I’m a fitness expert.
I won’t tell you what I’m doing because I’m kind of embarrassed by the cheesiness of it, but it’s a DVD fitness series thing that I specifically requested for Christmas (and no, it’s not Flirty Girl Fitness. I have some self-respect). It’s insane that even in my living room, with the blinds shut and the volume down low enough so my neighbors can’t hear, how insecure I am about the fact I own fitness DVDs. Like it’s some weird thing I have to keep hidden under beds or in underwear drawers.
Despite my irrational fear of people knowing I work out to high-energy videos that feature pop hits from Britney Spears and P!nk, I will try and do this everyday. And it’s not for some noble reason like wanting to be a “size healthier” (looking at you, bullshit weight loss commercials. What does that even mean?) but because I want to lose actual pounds. You know, the kind that when you add them up makes it possible for you to buy a pair of jeans from Abercrombie & Fitch. And hey, let’s talk about that store. I don’t think I’m some abnormally sized person ready for immobility, but yet Abercrombie refuses to offer sizes beyond size 9 in their stores. SIZE 9. So if you’re above that, then I guess you should just never see the light of day and consider your life a failure. And I honestly don’t even want a pair of their judgment jeans, I just want to be able to buy jeans there, but choose not to. Being able to smugly walk past their store (and probably have no one even notice) is the ultimate goal here.
So, yeah. Last night I started an exercise regimen.