Today I’ll start by saying that the last 26 years of people imprinting upon me what a woman should look like in a bathing suit has me absolutely petrified today. I am REALLY daft sometimes. Here I am wondering WHY I had to be so lazy this winter. Did I really need all of those damn Christmas cookies? Of course not, but being weak by nature when it comes to food in general, I indulged. Now I have love handles that do nothing but remind me that every day passed is one day closer to the time of year when I have to walk around half naked to go swimming. I mean seriously, Spanx needs to custom make me a full body wet suit. Now, I am keeping in mind that the simple solution to this problem is three hideous letters…the GYM. I hate gyms. I hate sweating with other people. I REALLY hate gyms with men in them, which is the way most gyms are. Yes, please watch as the make-up I felt that I had to put on to come to the gym melts off of my face and soaks into my clothes. Feel free to listen as I grunt like a caveman trying to lift the bench press bar, and enjoy watching my face contort in a way you have probably never seen before as I try to do sit ups. Women understand this, right? I mean, truthfully, at the gym all I want to concentrate on is how the freak of a woman teaching the Spin class must be of distant relation to Satan. I don’t want to have to worry about some weirdo staring at me!
Now I have a major dilemma because it won’t be warm out for a few months, my treadmill is currently frozen on the porch, and in the process of writing this I think I have convinced myself that there is no way in hell I am joining the Y. Guess I need to give this one some more thought. In the meantime I guess I'll just continue to enjoy "sweatshirt season".