Saturday, December 29, 2012
I suppose it's only fair to be upfront from the start. Hating exercise is pretty much a condition of continued happiness in my ever-changing world view. It that one constant, like knowing the sky is blue, fire is not meant to be touched, and that after about three drinks, the second constant is certainly debatable. But I'm going to try this. Because I'm supposed to be a responsible adult now, and like any responsible adult, my body had committed mutiny and turned on myself. Part of that is biology, a lot of it it is, as an adult, I now hold a job that greatly stimulates my grey matter, but not many other muscles in my body.
Of course, there is also the fact that my being physically fit is a condition of my employment. Joy, oh, joy. And while I'm fit enough to get by, how nice would it be to not have to worry that I won't merely scrape by my next test. Let's be honest, I'll never ace the test, but it would be nice to get off the margin line.
So, here I am. Another year, another resolution. And since I love to write, and bitch, and bitch and write, I'm adding this blogging thing as a condition of my new diet/resolution/hell as 1) something to look back and laugh at when I fail this three weeks in and 2) a way to vent steam that doesn't involve inflicting my bitchy sarcasm on my friends.
That being said, if you're reading this, go away.