Jan. 10th, 2009

kathryntact: (Cookies!)
I own plenty of shorts.  I live in eastern North Carolina and my parents have a place at the beach, shorts are a necessity.  Sweat pants, yoga pants, work-out pants?  Not so much.  I have one pair of black yoga pants that I wear to work out in when I'm feeling particularly cold. 
 
I joined a new gym yesterday and subsequently canceled my membership to the other gym.  I woke up this morning with intentions to try an exercise class to get back into the swing of things as I've been gym deficient since I had a flare-up, went on the entecort, got back on the imuran, had another flare-up, did a three week cycle of prednisone and was left feeling like shit.  The truth is the minute I become actively sick, no matter how I much I realize working out makes me feel good, I just cannot bring myself to do it.  I don't have the physical strength, and I sure as shit don't have the emotional strength to push myself to do it.  And that's leaving out the side effects that come with each of the medicines that I force down my throat.  From constant nausea to the actual vomiting to other less than lovely things, it's hard to wrap one's head around the idea of spending any considerable amount of time exerting energy.  Walking to the bathroom?  Check.  Walking on a treadmill?  Fuck you.
 
So, today was the day.  I've been home since Monday morning, took it easy for the most part this week (besides work, dinner with the faux husband and a munch) and I was raring to go.  Then I couldn't find my yoga pants.  And I was cold.  And I was not getting in the shower to shave my legs so I could wear shorts instead.  I think my yoga pants decided to stay in Manhattan along with my Bed Head Curls Rock! spray.  They wanted to watch all the new fish swimming about in [livejournal.com profile] boymeat 's freshly cleaned aquarium.  I cannot blame them, of course.  The fish are ridiculously cute, active and happy.  The loaches are not constant cannibals.
 
Alas, instead of going to work out at 11, I went to Target to buy new work-out pants.  If you're a knee sock lover as I am, Target has their Valentine's Day socks out already and the pickings are fantastic.  Not to mention all the super cute argyle-y and stripe-y goodness.  Then I hit up the Old Navy to see if they had anything in the variety of long and comfy for time on an elliptical.  They did not, but I did manage to purchase a super cute, super pink aluminum water bottle with the recycling symbol in the shape of a heart.  You cannot take the dork out of the girl.  No matter how hard you try.  Truly. 
 
I'll lounge about a bit more and get my backside to the gym early this afternoon.  No class of course, but there are two tomorrow I'm interested in and I'll make it to at least one of them.  And I'm quite looking forward to it.  Why?
 
Because I'm one fucked up masochist.  With semi-decent intentions.  Filled to the brim with vanity.  Quite ready to get some blood flowing back into her muscles.
 
 
 
 

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kathryntact

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