One of my dear friends has a blog about his journey doing miserable things like working out and watching what he eats. (For the record, I consider him my “dear friend” but this may be entirely one-sided. I’m insecure like that.) I thought I would contribute my thoughts on the process, since my hatred of it all is unique. (That was sarcasm. People who enjoy exercising suck.)

I have a membership at a ghetto gym. When I say “ghetto,” I am imploring you to imagine ineffective air-conditioning, deliberately torn tank tops, machines that haven’t been greased since the early 2000s, and the over-powering scent of Axe Body Spray. Why am I going to such a gym, you ask? The answer is simple: Because it’s cheap, and I’d rather spend my money on food. Yes, I am the shining epitome of fitness. Thank you for noticing.

I force myself to go to the gym 3 days a week. This, by the way, is a maximum. Also, I have this inability to spend more than 45 minutes total working out in any capacity. At the 30 minute mark, my brain cells start to die. At the 45 minute mark, I’m going insane with boredom. WORKING OUT IS SOOOO BORING. I actually get restless, then start gazing out the steamy gym windows longingly, wondering why I’m allowing myself to sweat indoors while inhaling unsafe amounts of cheap cologne. My God, there’s a WHOLE WORD OUT THERE. A life to be lived!

And this is EVEN if I’m listening to music, which is an absolute necessity for me if I plan on doing any kind of exercise. Just the other day, I forgot ear buds and every. Millisecond. Was. TORTURE. Fox News was on every television, as far as the eye could see. I was on the last of a row of 12 treadmills, only 5 of which actually worked. The lady to my left was walking at 2.4 miles per hour while talking loudly on the phone about her bathroom renovations.

I wanted to kill myself.

As for watching what I eat, well, fuck that shit. I mean, I try not to OVER-eat, and I don’t really have a sweet tooth, so I’m lucky in that respect, I guess. But I’ll be DAMNED if I give up beer, guacamole, foie gras, brie cheese, chili cheese tater tots, or beer. Did I mention beer?

I guess this is the part where I say something like, “It’s all about moderation.” Whatever. Sometimes, moderation is overrated. Sometimes, you just need a whole lot of a good thing to be happy. After all, we only have one life to live. While we don’t need to die of cardiac arrest from it, we also can’t spend our entire lives eating fat-free rice cakes and working out. What I’m trying to say is this: Binge yourself into a coma every once in a while.

Fine, I don’t know what I’m saying, except that exercise and dieting sucks the big one and I hate doing it.

You’re welcome.

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