Swimsuit season is upon us, folks, and with it comes a desire to look like Kate Upton while simultaneously eating your weight in Famous Amos cookies. Why does food have to cause us to gain weight? Why can’t we live in a utopian society where being a bad person causes the scale to go up (Every insult equals one pound, maybe?), while cookies and fries and pizza are rewards for being fabulous people?
Sadly, that’s not the case. And eating healthier is only half the battle: It’s time to shake the cobwebs from our gym membership cards and hit the treadmill. We’d rather stick needles in our eyes.
Alriiiiiight, we’re being a tad dramatic, but starting a new exercise regimen isn’t easy. In fact, it’s pretty darn difficult and even harder when the allure of Netflix in bed is so real. We’re with you. Let’s examine the hot-mess stages of starting to exercise…again.
*Stage 1: Denial*—You wake up and realize, “Holy crap, it’s July and I need to get my life together.” You’re convinced your mirror is lying to you and that it’s the salt in the air—never McDonald’s—causing this bloat. Reality hits, so you make a plan to shed some pounds before your beach trip in August. You put on Beyoncé’s “Run the World (Girls)” for inspiration. If Queen B can shed her Blue Ivy weight while ruling North America, you can do this.
Stage 2: Uhhh… Sneakers? —Crap. This already isn’t going well. You can’t find your tennis shoes anywhere because you’ve spent the last six months on the couch binge-watching “Orange is the New Black” and saying you’d start exercising tomorrow. You put out an APB for your Nikes, get on all fours and start looking under the car and in between the bed sheets for them. Huzzah! You finally find them, albeit with your winter clothes. Whoops.
Stage 3: Let’s Do This! —You drive to the gym. The receptionist who once knew you by name doesn’t recognize you, but it’s not getting you down. You trek up the stairs to the cardio deck—a little winded, but whatevs—and spot the one open treadmill smack dab in between two perrrrfect looking girls with flat stomachs. You’re not going to let them intimidate you, but you’re flabbergasted by their ability to just run and run and RUN, seemingly not breaking a sweat and each wearing a smile you typically reserve for when the food comes at Applebee’s. You’re feeling good, so you hop on the treadmill and get to work.
Stage 4: Delusion, Anger, Surrender: —You’ve got a mad case of the, “I can keep up with these girls,” so you crank up the speed, incline and start sprinting uphill like a boss. Welp, for the first five minutes. You start seeing spots and your legs burn with the fiery hot passion of a thousand suns. Pissed off, you question how any human being could possibly enjoy going to the gym when there’s so much sitting down in the world to do. The jig is up, though: You can’t keep running up what feels like Mount Everest at the speed of the Road Runner for another second. You decrease everything and start walking, feeling defeated, sweaty and verklempt.
Stage 5: WTF AM I DOING WITH MY LIFE?! —You have a mid-life crisis on the treadmill. That’s it, you’re done. Game over. You’ll just wear a T-shirt—or parka—to the beach and never find love and die alone. Yup, good plan.
Stage 6: Epiphany— While you’re walking on the treadmill and mentally picking out the types of cats you’ll adopt one day, you realize something: You’re still walking on the treadmill! And you know what? You feel good—refreshed, sweaty as hell and probably a little stinky, but let’s just blaze pass that. You feel a tad adventurous, so you crank up the speed just a smidgen. A light jog doesn’t seem so bad, right? You don’t have to do a Madonna-style workout in order to get results. Ain’t nobody got time for that.
Stage 7: Who Run the World? Me, That’s Who! —Thirty minutes fly by and you get off the treadmill feeling energized and fabulous. You realize it’s all about doing something, not running a ZUMBAlates class, that matters. So maybe you won’t be Upton-fied by August, but at least you’re getting healthier and that’s the key. You mentally make another gym date for the day after tomorrow. You’ll bring the wine water.
Lacing up your tennis shoes and just trying is the real victory.
[Photo Credit: Relativity Media]
