Working out sucks and I hate it

When I exercise, I get really red. I get so red that people whose job it is to make sure you don't die whilst working out get concerned. I'm not dying, though, even though I feel like I'm going to. I'm just working out. And it sucks.

My hatred of working out began at a young age. As an awkward, tall and gawky teenager, it only increased. I loped slowly around the track, wheezing and clutching my side that was exploding in pain. The term “cramp” seemed woefully insufficient as I collapsed in front of my PE teacher. She would roll her eyes and grunt that I had to do another lap. I still hold a prejudice against a woman wearing a sweatband around her head. The presumption in itself that you will break a sweat just at any point without notice irks me.

I always assumed that I would inherit the svelte physique of my mother, who has bulging biceps and a trim waist even now, in her fifties. With the benefit of hindsight, I see we are not made of the same stuff.

I am prone to being fat. It distributes in my middle, but also settles in my face, making me look like a happy baby. I get fat when I'm sad. I get fat when I'm happy. I get fat after having a baby. When women tell me that breastfeeding made them just shed pounds like crazy, I want to punch them in their faces. Not really. Mostly it makes me want to cry. Being fat makes me emotional too, like the fat molecules are crowding the part of my brain capable of toughing it out.

So, faced with a lifetime of potential obesity, and having a vague interest in extending my life for the benefit of my kids, I have tried several different forms of exercise:

1. Fitness Class
   This initially worked because it was highly scheduled, which made me more likely to attend. I didn't like that it seemed like everyone in the class was more fit than me, though. Also there was a complicated system of chits that never failed me, but always made me paranoid I wouldn't get a spot. Eventually I got bored of cycling to nowhere to Ricky Martin.
2. DIY Gym Attendance
   I went to the gym religiously for an extended period of time. I did eliptical and stationary bike and circuit training for increasing periods of time. I lost no weight. It made me eat more, and it seemed like a crazy investment of time for very little payoff. I stopped going because they got rid of the lady I liked at child-minding and replaced her with this shitty half-assed 21-year old that made my baby cry. Next!
3. Yoga
   I love yoga, I really do. But something about it just feels like a fashion show, doesn't it? There's always a few chicks that can do downward dog like badasses and have a new outfit every class. You stare at them while your legs shake uncontrollably, judging yourself for the pills on your yoga pants that smell kind of funky because you're afraid to wash them. I prefer to think I've taken a hiatus from yoga, rather than abandoned it, but I'm not sure I can afford the attire I need to perform it comfortably.
4. Kickboxing
   This is my most current past time, and I can not say enough about it. Punching things as exercise just makes so much sense to me. Seeing as whenever a fitness instructor tells me to push it to the limit I want to punch them, this is a perfect solution! I even get to kick and punch a rubber dude at the end. It's great.

I'm pretty sure my love of butter will keep me constantly in peril of heart disease, so I will continue in my quest for enjoyable exercise. In the end, I know it keeps me more balanced. Exercise is a really great component to the treatment of mental illness and prevention of relapse. Meanwhile, I'm hoping to instil a love of exercise in my kids as well. I don't want them to find it the painful chore that I do. Maybe one day they'll be those alien folks I see at the gym who look like they're truly enjoying themselves! Who knows!