I was always one of those b-words that could eat anything I wanted and not have to worry about the effect on my body. I have weighed the same since I was about 16. It always made people sick because I didn't really do anything to maintain a decent shape.
Fear not for those of you that are going green with envy. That time has come to a rather abrupt end. Even my sweet and gentle mother has politely suggested that perhaps a run on the treadmill would not be such a bad thing. But I just can't do it, I hate running.
I detest it. I would rather watch paint dry. FOR A WHOLE DAY. Running made me feel fat when I wasn't even fat! It makes my cheeks wobble. I literally feel as if my cheeks are growing, extending away from me as I watch them bouncing back and forth in my peripheral vision. Running makes me sweat, I don't like sweating. It makes me sticky and smelly (neither of which are AT ALL appealing). Running causes me to have the inability to sit down, stand up, crouch, walk up or down stairs (or walk anywhere for a matter of fact) for at least 3 days following the dreadful deed. I don't get that supposed endorphin release, the only feeling I get after a run is the need for chocolate (to cheer me up- chocolate DOES get my endorphins going) and the feeling of reassurance that I will never EVER in my life do that again.
So for now I will lie in bed, with my back fat, growing rear-end and wobbly thighs and together we will plan to try and take a brisk stroll on the treadmill tomorrow. Maybe. Or perhaps we can rather savour some more chocolate together. The latter is more appealing for sure!
No comments:
Post a Comment