Editor's Note: You've seen my brain fueled by M&M's and Diet Coke, but have you ever seen my brain fueled by exercise? This, dear friends, is my brain on NATURAL endorphins.

6:30: I leave the office, a vicious war wagering in my brain. The bad side of my brain says: "Go home, little one. You've had a long* day and you only ate two slices of pizza for lunch. You don't need to work out." The good side of my brain says: "You are such a fatass. Think of all the ziti you ate last night! Not to mention the bagel, the bread and the brownies. AND YOU DRANK WHOLE MILK, YOU DISGUSTING SWINE."

7:00: After much deliberating, I reluctantly walk into my new gym, the Chinatown YMCA. The smell of gym mats and healthy people make me sick to my stomach, but I soldier on. I enter the locker room, only to be flashed by half a dozen Asian grandmothers. Looking good, ladies. Loo-ooking good.

7:10: I force myself into my too small Nike one piece bathing suit that I bought during my brief stint as YMCA coach during freshman year of college. I must have gotten taller, right? That's why this doesn't fit, RIGHT?

7:12: I fumble around the locker room, trying to find the showers. I walk in on a mother and a daughter who both yell at me and act like I'm a pedophile. GOD, I'M SUCH A ROOKIE.

7:14: I "shower". By shower, I mean I unsuccessfully attempt to put on hot water and screech as I get blasted by a stream of ice cold "peasant" water.

7:17: One last look in the locker room mirror confirms that I do in fact look like Michael Phelps with boobs and a gut...and less defined biceps.

7:18: I grab my hand towel and head to the pool, where I pull out half my hair in an attempt to get my bathing cap on. I then nearly break my brand new goggles and slip in the hallway connecting the locker room and pool.

7:20: I make it to the pool deck, where I see that a group of beautiful Australian swimmers are stretching before diving into the "fast lane". They call each other "mate" and ooze sex appeal. I pass them on the way to the loser lane, sucking in my stomach so hard that I hear my ribs crack. Self-loathing reaches an all time high.

7:22: I stick my feet into the slow lane, still out of breath from sucking (in my stomach. and at life). Three arthritic grandmothers are practicing their backstroke and judge me as I dive under the water and immediately get my few remaining strands of hair caught in the duct.

7:22:30: Screeching for the second of many times that evening, I pull my hair free. Most of my fellow swimmers are staring at me. Tears streaming down my face, I duck back under and focus on finding my inner Nemo.

7:23: I make it a few strokes before coming up for air. The AARP have swam past me, laughing at me as I choke on the chlorinated water.

7:33: After several*** vigorous laps, I look eagerly up at the clock, thinking that at least an hour has passed. Sadly, it has only been ten minutes.

7:45: I swim back and forth with the energy and stamina of my fellow lanies (I hope by making up nicknames, they will accept me as their own. I really want to learn bridge.)

7:50: Deciding that I've had enough of this exercise crap for one day, I emerge from the pool, hoisting myself up like a goddess. People stare as I exit the pool, obviously taking in my exquisite form and exceptional looks.

7:52: I enter the locker room and shriek at my reflection in the mirror. Apparently I was not wearing waterproof mascara and I resemble a drowned raccoon.

7:54: Defeated by my post-swim ugliness, I shower quickly, accidentally soaking my bag and jeans. Note to future self: the bench outside the shower is not protected from the stream.

8: I leave the gym, uglified but feeling oddly successful and pleased with myself.

8:20: I eat ziti and the icing from a stale black and white cookie. Gym again tomorrow, I swear.

*= Lie.
**= One


  1. I know exactly how you feel!

  2. This seriously made me LOL. I cannot picture you at a gym.

  3. I just had a flashback to a couple of butterballs on some MC treadmills. Once.

  4. It's funny that when we used to go to the gym together, YOU were usually the one embarrassed of ME and my beastliness (referring to both my appearance, and my diesel-ass workouts). remember the time we decided to try out the sauna? that was both frightening and humiliating. also, there was the time i fell off of the elliptical, smashed my head into the handles, and started gushing blood from my knee. oh and remember the time you ran on the treadmill for 2 minutes?! you had to stop when your sports bra burst at every seam! good thing you were wearing two, per usual!

  5. that should be in a sitcom

  6. Copiare l'orologio è molto bello,replica rolex Orologi questo è uno stile di fascia alta. Mi piace molto questo orologio replica. Il servizio del negozio è molto buono, la qualità dell'orologio è molto buona e il prezzo è molto conveniente,replica yacht master ii Orologi penso che sia molto economico, di buona qualità e a basso prezzo.