Working Out Screws with Evolution

{{Fine! It’s another re-post!

 

But here’s a bathing suit picture to shame me into never re-posting the old shizz ever again.}}

 

 

I have this friend.

 

And she is lovely. She really is.

 

Very fit, exercise-y, trim. That kind of crap.

 

Also, very motivational.

 

Offering to train me, help me eat right, be my health “sponsor.”

 

Which is awesome.

 

But really, she’s like the blondie, feather-haired cheerleader sister you have, where never in six million years will you perform at the awesome over-achiever level she deems acceptable.

 

Also, she LOVES to work out.

 

Loves.

 

Like gets excited about it.

 

So right there we have nothing in common.

 

But I want to give myself to her just the same.

 

Hand my body over and say, “Go to town. Do what you need to do. I don’t need my legs to work today.”

 

Just to put it in context, this is the email she sent me yesterday:

 

(Paraphrased): Come to the gym with me! I want to do Power Pump first, then Cardio KickBox, then Spin class! Afterwards, let’s do six weeks of weight training and a yoga cool down!”

 

Whereas in response, I’m thinking (paraphrased): FUCK NO. But is there a smoothie bar?

 

See, I do like to not be enormous. I do prefer to not be a cotton ball of little to no muscle. It’s just that it seems so complicated. You know, getting in the car. Driving to a gym. Opening a locker. Getting on a treadmill.

 

I don’t think I’m genetically programmed to break a sweat. I know there’s a good reason for it. Probably something evolutionary, like I hail from a long line of Norwegian acid sweat-ers.

 

Still and yet. I promised to join my lithe, supple-muscled freak friend for a workout next week after the kids go back to school. I’m going to her gym for a week, during which time she hopes to transform me into someone who isn’t a human marshmallow.

 

Also! And funnily! She thinks maybe I might learn to like breaking a sweat!

 

Poor thing. She’s gonna be real sorry when all my skin burns off because of that Norwegian acid sweat thing.

 

I’m just saying: You do NOT mess with evolution.