I like working out, to some extent.
By that I mean I like the way it makes me look and feel. My muscles are tighter. They feel more powerful and thus I feel more powerful. Plus it makes me look all sleek and svelte (as sleek and svelte as I get) and helps me do stuff like fit into that size 6 dress I bought from Target last year. Then there's stuff like the pink cheeked glow that I try to recreate with blush every day, or the satisfaction that comes from knowing I got up and moved instead of just sitting around, pretending that extra hour of sleep actually did me any good. Plus, sometimes I just need to move, need to work out the restless kinks in my body and mind, push the bad feelings out with every pound of my foot on the pavement or cycle of the elliptical.
So I think of these things, and then I go to work out. Like today when I tried to work out in my backyard with the Nike Training App on my phone. I felt like an idiot, but did it anyway, in full view of my mom, sister, and neighbors. Not to mention my dog, who decided to gleefully run toward me and sit on my phone, turning off the app as I struggled to do modified push-ups. Which brings me to my next point....
I also hate working out.
I'm not sure if it's the same for me as it is for everyone, because I feel like "omg I hate working out" always comes from people who cannot possibly hate it as much as I do. First, I look stupid doing it. I know this. I know that a lot of people also look stupid trying to run, but growing up with a sister like mine who looks like a freaking gazelle every time she begins running (seriously, all graceful and natural-like) and going to the gym and seeing similarly graceful athletes is enough to make me supremely self-conscious of how much effort it takes for me to avoid looking like...well I don't even know what. But it's very awkward, I'll tell you that. Combine how dumb I look with how bad I am at performing any physical activity and you get step two of why I hate working out. I can never get the breathing quite right, and thus have very little stamina. My muscles can handle the exertion, my lungs can't. Take today, for example. My chest hurt, my stomach hurt from all the panting, and since it was outside and I was cold that part of my mouth below my tongue was throbbing like crazy. I couldn't catch my breath. For the trifecta: I give up too easily. I start to feel crappy, wonder why I'm even work out in the first place, then throw in the towel.
Today was salvaged by a power walk around the park. Not sure what I'm going to do about tomorrow.
Till then...
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Monday, December 5, 2011
Hello, Blog
I'm being a lame-o and not really blogging as much as I should. And of course, this "should" is self-imposed and in no way reflects any actual blog rules or regulations. Are there even such things? Probably not.
I think my main problem is that I self-edit too much. When I think about stuff to write, I end up thinking about how embarrassed I'd be if someone I knew read it, or if someone I blogged about read it, or....well you get the idea. Basically, I have a fear of not fitting into the blogosphere. I have anxiety about something, who'da thunk?
But really, though, I'm going to try to change all that. Starting right this very second. This is an empty promise, as you know, because I've made it a million times before. But this time I'm not promising to be a better blogger or a better writer or a better friend or anything FROM NOW ON or any other delusional grandiose statements. I'm just going to write a lengthy post right now and see what I feel like doing tomorrow.
This weekend was strange, mostly because it's the weekend before finals and I'm doing that thing where I feel like I should be stressing because everyone else is...but I really don't have anything to be nervous about until probably Tuesday or so. My only test is on Friday. I'm not really one to study for something WEEKS in advance, a few days will do. Tomorrow (today, I guess...) I have my fiction portfolio due. I finished my short story and compiled all my drafts and my short shorts for my portfolio. I'm not sure I'm 100% proud of my stories or not. But I've learned that with both painting and writing, I am too much of a perfectionist. But not in a good way. I work things until I kill them. My painting professor actually has to come up to me and say "Stop. You're done. Put the brush down." Oy. I went through my story today and changed the name of one of my character's dad's colleagues. This character appears in one sentence. I decided it really was important that his name be Richard instead of Jack. How silly. But despite my crazy, I have finally declared it finished. I will print it out in the morning, turn it in, and then hopefully go to the gym. We'll see how that goes.
I feel like that's good for one post. I was going to wax poetic about crushes (and current lack thereof) and various awkward things I've gone lately and maybe even this really cool piano mashup that involves Rebecca Black's "Friday" ...but I think instead I'll watch an episode of "Arrested Development" and go to bed. Fascinating, yes?
I think my main problem is that I self-edit too much. When I think about stuff to write, I end up thinking about how embarrassed I'd be if someone I knew read it, or if someone I blogged about read it, or....well you get the idea. Basically, I have a fear of not fitting into the blogosphere. I have anxiety about something, who'da thunk?
But really, though, I'm going to try to change all that. Starting right this very second. This is an empty promise, as you know, because I've made it a million times before. But this time I'm not promising to be a better blogger or a better writer or a better friend or anything FROM NOW ON or any other delusional grandiose statements. I'm just going to write a lengthy post right now and see what I feel like doing tomorrow.
This weekend was strange, mostly because it's the weekend before finals and I'm doing that thing where I feel like I should be stressing because everyone else is...but I really don't have anything to be nervous about until probably Tuesday or so. My only test is on Friday. I'm not really one to study for something WEEKS in advance, a few days will do. Tomorrow (today, I guess...) I have my fiction portfolio due. I finished my short story and compiled all my drafts and my short shorts for my portfolio. I'm not sure I'm 100% proud of my stories or not. But I've learned that with both painting and writing, I am too much of a perfectionist. But not in a good way. I work things until I kill them. My painting professor actually has to come up to me and say "Stop. You're done. Put the brush down." Oy. I went through my story today and changed the name of one of my character's dad's colleagues. This character appears in one sentence. I decided it really was important that his name be Richard instead of Jack. How silly. But despite my crazy, I have finally declared it finished. I will print it out in the morning, turn it in, and then hopefully go to the gym. We'll see how that goes.
I feel like that's good for one post. I was going to wax poetic about crushes (and current lack thereof) and various awkward things I've gone lately and maybe even this really cool piano mashup that involves Rebecca Black's "Friday" ...but I think instead I'll watch an episode of "Arrested Development" and go to bed. Fascinating, yes?
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