I came back to work after Christmas and could find only one pair of pants that fit. Currently that number is at 2 and has resulted to me wearing a lot of dresses and control top tights.
So I've started hitting the gym. You'd figure that since I work in one (granted in the corporate office that just happens to be in one of the gyms) and walk through one at least 10 times a day, I'd work out a bit more. But just like everyone else I'm exhausted at the end of the day and want nothing more than to just go home and veg out on the couch. I've put a little calendar up on my wall in my office and have been checking off the days that I work out hoping that people will hold me accountable.
I figure if I can do at least 30 minutes at least 3 times a week with an hour of yoga or pilates thrown in there I'd been happy. 30 minutes is better than no minutes right? Usually when I work out I hide in the back corner on a bank of ellipticals that look out onto the parking lot. I'm hidden so people can't come ask questions (just wait until someone asks you about their paycheck while you're in the shower. It happens) and I don't have to watch the fitness floor because you know what? It can drive me insane.
I'm totally that person that will roll out of bed, add pants and a sports bra to the t-shirt I slept in and will go to the gym. I go insane with the girls in the locker room that are concerned about whether this or that shirt looks better or if their hair isn't just right, or their makeup isn't perfect. You're.At.The.Gym. You're lucky I at least brushed my teeth before I came.
So the other day it was crazy busy and I couldn't get my usual machine. Instead I ended up on the bank that faces the entire floor. It was the worst 30 minutes of my life. This bank of machines has a bank of bikes that face it. So you're pretty much looking someone else in the eye while you work out. Even though I had my headphones in and my TV on, I couldn't help but watch the person in front of my that was just laughing away at whatever it was that he was watching. If he wasn't laughing he was red in the face and looking like he was going to fall off the bike. All I could think was, "please don't pass out because then I'm going to have to jump off here to help you." There was the girl with the glitter baby doll tee and her Coach purse walking around with the intention of looking pretty instead of working out. There were the people that wandered around, looking for something to do or trying to figure out how something works and all I wanted to do was to go help them or grab a staff member to go help them. It was incredibly stressful. I couldn't help to either be annoyed or to turn my brain off from my job so I could enjoy my 30 minutes of working out.
Not that I enjoy working out. I don't get that high afterwards. I don't feel energized the next day. I feel like shit. I'm hot and sweaty and I smell afterwards. Then the next day I feel like crap from whatever exercise I did the day before and wonder, why on earth I did it to myself.