Are you buying that? Me either.
I have these visions of myself being a fitness buff. I strive for it. Once a month or so I dutifully put on my running shoes and my cute little outift from Target that doens't look nearly as good on me as I thought it would, and I go for a run.
What really happens is that I run for all of five minutes and walk the rest. And the whole ordeal is done in under 30 minutes. Then I pass out on my couch, bowl chips placed firmly on my belly, and watch reruns of Friends.
Today I passed so many people running and riding bikes. All of them looked like they were born to do it. Their clothes fit perfectly, their stride was graceful, they looked right in a helmet. I seemed to have been born without the fitness gene.
I try, I really do. But it's hard! I shope for great workout clothes thinking that "if I buy them (the buff) will come". I do really great stretches, as though I'm about to run a marathon, thinking the buff will come. But it never does.
I have always longed to be a fitness girl. I've taken aerobics classes, I've tried the treadmill, I've even tried buying a bike. But no matter how many pieces of exercise equipment, gym memberships or sytlish workout clothes I buy, I just can't become the fitness buff. I dream of running a marathon or doing a triathalon. But let's face it, I can't run a mile, how the hell will I ever run a marathon?
When I'm running or taking an aerobics class I feel good. I feel like I fit in with the other girls in the class or runners on the path. But then I catch a glimpse of myself in a store window or mirror and frankly, I look like I'm about to die. I'm all disheveled, hair every which way, shirt riding up above my belly, shorts bunched up in the friction between my 'too big thighs that touch'. You know what I mean, right ladies? The look where people stop and ask you if you're ok, if you need them to call an ambulance. I don't look nearly the sexy, athletic, stylish girl I was picturing. And then I realize how freaking tired I am, and then I lose my groove and eventually give up.
These days I'm blaming it on the kids. Maybe if I had more time, I'd exercise more, right? And then I'd get really good at it and not look like I just went through 36 hours of labor and pushed out a baby when I merely ran to the corner. Maybe then. Maybe.
I better go buy a cute outfit, my day is coming.