I started writing this blog at 4:30 am because, like the world, I am trying to lose weight and I’m going swimming.
I have decided 4:30 am is way too early for anyone. The only thing that should be awake at that time are birds and even that is questionable.
So here I am at the pool, wondering why people do this? They say it takes thirty days to make a change… I say, ‘go f**k yourself.’ So here I am making a change… a change of no sleep. I hate the people that talk about how they love to exercise because it releases endorphins and who wouldn’t be happy about that?!
Listen. If the good Lord wanted you to be happy all the time, He would give endorphins automatically, like air. There is no need to go and stir the biological stew and make some chemical to make you happy. It’s called anti-depressants. Use them. Like the rest of us. Besides, anti-depressants don’t make you smell, sweat or wake you up at freaking 4:30 am. It’s a facade people… working out is a facade. I think people that work out are really nuts. You could be sleeping or doing something fun like an all-you-can-eat buffet. If you want real happiness, go find all you can eat lo mein or crab rangoon. Eat an eggroll for Godsakes.
And if you are one of those lucky people that needs to ‘eat because you are too skinny…’ I would personally like to punch you. Right in your mouth so it’s impossible for you to eat. And do you know why? Because you are eating because you are too skinny. I am eating because I am happy or sad or mad or glad or PMSing or because the sky is blue or black or lovely shades of orange.
So, do you know what really pissed me off about swimming at 4:30 am? The fact that I forgot a bra. When you go to a buffet, you bring yourself and they provide all the utensils and plates- a clean plate every time, might I add. But the YMCA isn’t providing me with a bra. So there I was, at what is now, 6 am walking out of the Y bra-less. I felt like people were looking at me and then I was like, ‘you know what? I am getting some extra exercise. Guy on the treadmill… I am literally playing soccer.’ Left foot and I kick my left boob… right foot… other boob and voila… I got some extra cardio. As I am walking across the parking lot, I may have shouted, ‘GOOOOOAL!’ Yeah… extra cardio for an extra early, bra-less morning.
So screw you skinny people with your skinny jeans that don’t look good no matter how small you are… and your bright, pink sweat bands, your new kicks and your sweaty, old gym bag and your gym membership that doesn’t include free bras.
Until next time,
Can someone pass me the crab rangoon and hook my bra… there’s like ten clips because my boobs are huge. They’re called ‘pectoral muscles’ bitch.
This blog is dedicated to my friend Andrea and her love for Jazzercise, crab rangoon and long walks on the beach.