Dear Gym,

I have to admit I feel a bit torn over our relationship. I mean, when it is time to go see you, I want to find every excuse in the book not to. Like, “Oh, I’m sorry, I’m feeding my dog ice cream right now” or “I really wish I could, but I’m washing my keys”. My body fills with dread. I become spontaneously fatigued. It is one of those times where I would be totally okay with not finding my misplaced keys or my purse because, well, I really shouldn’t drive without my license. 

However, once I get to you and start working out; I begin to release endorphins as blood pumps through my arteries while my legs and arms work in unison on the elliptical. I feel empowered as I lift five more pounds of weight than I did two weeks ago. I love the transformation as my saggy underarm flaps become toned and I’m no longer afraid of flying away if I lift up my arms on a windy day. It is exhilarating to know I can walk a mile without feeling like I’m asthmatic due to my lack of stamina. 

Then, you make me dislike you all over because of my dying muscles the following day. The pain of sitting down on the toilet because I did one too many squats is the dumps (pun intended). Trying to give myself a french braid can be a hairy situation because it is nearly impossible to hold my arms up due to burning triceps. Apparently cleaning the house doesn’t really count as exercise, if it did my muscles wouldn’t be this bad. Plus, I discovered muscles I didn’t even know I had after visiting you. Oh you tricky little gym. 

You know how to make me like you again though. After a day of muscle fatigue, you make me feel great. I’m stronger, I have more endurance, plus I look thinner. As a woman, the latter is always the ultimate goal. It is why on this day I decide to go back and repeat my rocky relationship with you. The desire to lose ten pounds to fit into that new dress I couldn’t quite zip up at the store, but I bought it anyway because it was super cute and on sale makes me want to keep our date. You can be so good to me so that when I drop five pounds, my every other day visit with you doesn’t feel like enough. I start seeing you everyday. Finally, the day I am able to zip and rock that new dress I decide I don’t need to kill myself anymore so I can stop seeing you quite as often.

That not so often begins to fade into once a week… then every other week. Next thing I know a month has gone by, then two. One day I noticed that cute dress doesn’t fit again. I have gained all the weight back, PLUS five pounds. Then it hits me, I should have kept my every other day dates with you because now I have to start the whole damn process over again and do you know how unmotivated I feel at that moment? I feel so disgusted with letting myself go that I head into the kitchen to make a carrot cake so that I can drown my sorrows in the beauty of homemade cream cheese icing that looks like it was applied onto the cake by a New York City bakery selling fresh bagels and cream cheese. It is going to take me another month and five pounds before I convince myself to start seeing you again. Oh the conundrum!

Sincerely,

Rambling Roxy