I revisited that wonderful pleasure of stretching out (and using) my muscles again today. Damn if it didn't feel good (after the achings of course). I'd forgotten how good it felt and that adrenaline rush you get when all those happy endorphins are released from some healthy exercise.
So I've made a resolution to try and do this for at least one hour every week on Tuesdays (since I finish class at 12 anyways). Sounds good right? I certainly think so. It's not going to kill me after all.
Now, I'm sure everyone's got their doubts that I can't do it but I will! Or else that thought of not being able to fit in my bikini, or my size 0-1 jeans will break me into hysterical sobbing fits. Or when I turn 25 and my metabolism slows down, and inevitably, that slight roundness around the middle with start to grow exponentially and I'll blow up like a balloon. [insert tears here]
There you have it. That's my incentive. That scary thought that I won't fit into my jeans, or the humiliating thought that I'll be embarassed to wear my bikini (Oh God). When I hit past my 30s then maybe I won't care as much but until then I must scare myself into committing to this exercise routine... or else I'll always eat cheesecake with extra helpings of guilt on top. :(
Good luck to me!
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