Well, I have decided to start working out again. I hate exercising. I think anyone who says they enjoy it are dirty liars. My muscles burn, my lungs ache, and my sweat makes me feel like a stick of butter that has been left out. There has never been anything fun or enjoyable about it. The results are nice, but why must they take so much torture to achieve? At that point, is it even worth all the suffering?
People have told me it gives them a dopamine rush, like they get high from exercising, and I’m like… what the freaking heck is wrong with you? I think it’s okay to admit working out sucks, as long as you’re doing it.
I know that it is good, which is why I’m doing it, but I am NOT happy about it. I am sobbing while I run. Just kidding—but sometimes I want to. You don't have to tell me I am being ridiculous, I am aware of this.
I’m doing running and aerobics. Aerobics is honestly kind of fun if you do the ’80s videos, and running is horrible—but maybe if I get strong enough, I might begin to enjoy the feeling of my legs falling off. When I’m on my period, I low-key just go on walks or do yoga, because working out is torturous enough. Why would I do it when I’m also having menstrual cramps?
But I must prevail so I can feel better, since working out has an endless list of benefits for mental and physical health. I want to say, “Let’s see how long this will last,” but I’ve realized that’s not a good mindset—because who says it won’t last? I need to be more optimistic.
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