Oh god. A girl is blogging about exercise and fitness and working out. /runs away screaming/
If anyone who has met me in real life knows, one thing I look like — is that I’m working out constantly to maintain a trim and svelte figure. Or that I just have a trim and svelte figure. You’re all right about the figure. You’re completely wrong about the amount that I work out.
Not every day. Not every other day. Not twice a week. How about when I feel like it? Which is never.
And now I’ve gone from well-loved blogger to evil-thin-girl-who-can-eat-whatever-she-wants-and-not-have-to-work-out. Great.
What can I say to change your minds?
Ah, I know. I can stress the importance of staying fit and working out. Why? Because I know that despite this wonderful girlish figure (womanly curves? Blessed I was not.) I’m so not in shape.
How do I know this? Back when (ugh, it wasn’t that long ago) I was commuting to NYC and I had a hike up the E train platform to the world above, followed by a mad dash across 3 avenues and up 3 streets… or when I decided to walk from Penn Station to the Queensboro or from Penn to Chelsea — it was definitely a hike. And everything was hurting by the time I got there. Too much all at once? Quite possibly. But then I got used to it. And then I got toned. And I felt a lot better.
But now I don’t commute like that. I sit in a car for at least 45 min, and take a less than 5 min stroll to the office. I no longer have to run for my train… and while some people may love to forget about it… I can’t. I mean — it was good. Good for the body, anyway. Now I’m lazy and sit. And sit. And work. And work. And drive. And that’s it.
What kind of entry did you expect from someone who voluntarily doesn’t exercise? I don’t know anything.