I fucking hate to exercise. I dread it, when I'm in the middle of it I'm just counting down till it's over or fantasizing about what fabulously unhealthy thing I will do later, and afterwards I am sore and sweaty, hating myself and feeling too lazy to even shower. I fucking hate it.

I walk about 30 minutes every day, spend a good portion of time every week enthusiastically dancing in my room. That never bothers me. But as I sit here, just after getting off the elliptical I bought so I could teach myself to exercise properly, I am just consumed with hatred of exercising.

Interestingly, I was quite the 'athlete' growing up. I played sports year round, won awards, captained teams etc, and almost played D1 in college. Until I was like, oh wait, I FUCKING HATE THIS (except for winning. I like to win.) I guess when you are running more than 10 miles a week from ages 13 - 17 you don't realize there's another world out there. Since that epiphany I have not really walked into a gym, unless for a fun event. I have done dance classes, and hot yoga, both of which I adored but are too expensive for me to keep up on a regular basis. But ask me to go run around Central Park with you. NOPE. Marathon training, don't even mention it near me (but I'm happy for you and your unbelievable physical fitness and mental discipline, really I am.)

And people I love always point out how much more relaxed I am after I do some sort of work out. They ask me, don't you just feel so great after you get done?

Answer: NO. I fucking hate myself. I feel gross and inept and whatever result I get (a 10 minute mile on an elliptical sounds pathetic) makes me feel useless.

And now that brownie is staring at me.