There are three things I fear:
- Unplanned pregnancies
- Working out in public
Geographically speaking, I don’t really have to worry about tornadoes because where I live they’re pretty rare, and there’s not a penis willing to have sex with me as far as the eye can see, but working out in public has been a legitimate fear of mine since puberty.
About two weeks ago, after realizing that both my ass and my heart look like they’ve been in a drive-by shooting, I decided that it was time to stop focusing on dating and get in shape.
My Bachelor viewing squad all belong to the same gym, so I thought, what better way to fight your phobia of sweating profusely in public than by standing next to skinny beautiful bitches who will act as camouflage to the fact that you look like you’ve peed your workout tights? #BoxSweat
I’ll admit, part of my fear of joining a gym was because I didn’t know what to wear. I don’t own anything Lululemon based on principle, and I’ve heard how my male friends talk about girls they meet at the gym, so I’m assuming I’ll be judged by both sexes on my attire/body/hyperhidrosis.
It took serious calming down from my friend Sarah to get me to actually attend Saturday morning bootcamp, but I have to admit (and I hate myself for admitting this), it was actually the best decision I’ve made in a long time.
Sure, I should be happy that I’m getting in shape, moving more, blah blah blah getting healthier, but my love of the gym has taken a turn from “focusing on me” to a very dark place.
During my registration, I had a consultation with a trainer about my diet and fitness goals. The first question she asked was relatively simple, “What made you join a gym?”
Do you know how satisfying it is to picture the face of the guy who ghosted you on a medicine ball as you slam it into the ground repeatedly?
I swear, if you didn’t know me, you would think I was Arya Stark, because I’m literally mumbling the names of everyone who I hate as I’m pushing 120lbs on a stupid sled across the floor… Jake, Alex, Geoffrey, The Hound.
You should know that I’ve YET to run into an ex after a break-up, but I’m hoping all of that changes once I develop Michelle Obama arms and a thigh gap.
Yes, friends, I’m building a revenge body because I internalize my feelings and have convinced myself that the reason I’m single is purely physical and not a all because of my personality, timing or circumstances outside of my control.
This is just the beginning of this journey of vengeance. I have 6 weddings to attend, and my trainer wrote them all down on a piece of paper to help motivate me into achieving my fitness goals.
What are those goals?
Regret (on their part)
Rue-ing the day they met me. RUE IT.
I’m not crazy.
(Ok, maybe just a bit).