I knew that eventually something would happen that would prevent me from hitting the Sweat Factory and getting my sexiness all in order. Well, wouldn't you know that it ended up being my laziness? Who'da thunkit? Oh, I know who: my 275-lb. fat ass that took almost 26 years to get to this point.
Let me recap without chucking invectives wildly like a Dave McCarty fastball: about four weeks ago, I transferred to another department within my company. In my new position, my schedule changes almost daily, and it is rare that I have the same two days off in consecutive weeks. Therefore, my 1pm start time that I had relied on for over a month has been violently ripped away from me (although my happiness level at work and at home has exponentially risen). So every day I have to work out at a completely different time, and since some days I don't get out of work until 9pm...you do the math. You know I'm not waking up an hour earlier if I don't have to be to work until 1 in the afternoon. And after nine weeks, my gung-ho Go Team! attitude has been reduced to a broken noisemaker and 5.7 previously-lost pounds finding their way back into my body.
Anyway, with different start times every day, I've been occasionally rearranging my day off from the gym every week. It used to be Saturday, but lately it's been Tuesday, or Friday, or Wednesday, or whatever. This week it was Wednesday. I worked a nine-hour shift, and was supposed to head right for the gym after work. But at the end, my boss sat me down and told me training was over, and that I was now effectively released into the wild, as it were. I was incredibly happy. Here's a brief idea of how I looked:
Just add about 22 years and a couple hundred pounds (but the same wife-beater) and you get the idea.
So how did I want to celebrate? Did I want to go leg press about 300 lbs. and almost snap my tailbone like a dead tree? Or did I want to go home and kill a bottle of Zinfandel with my honey? Or did I want to drink and work out at the same time?
Well, I opted for B (although C sounds wonderful). So much for Saturday being my day off. But it wasn't a huge deal. I would just have to work out every day for the rest of the week. Yet Thursday had other plans for me. It was my day off from work, and I spent most of it unpacking and rearranging things in our new apartment. Around 3:30 or so, I was literally walking out the door to head to the gym (it should be noted that Holls was out of work at 3, but was on her way to an oil change). She pulled into the driveway right as I was walking out the door. She had one of those looks that every husband/fiance/boyfriend recognizes right away: it's the I'm-going-to-say-you-can-leave-for-the-gym-now-but-if-you-leave-me-alone-I-might-murder-a-cat-in-cold-blood look. Like this:
Wait, that's the cat. More like this:
Minus the nurse's uniform.
So I gotta find out what's wrong. I can't leave my girl hanging like that, so I put off going to the gym. And we talk for a while, and we end up going out for dinner, and the potential bad night turns into a very good one.
And at a certain point, it's about 10:30...
And my bag is still packed for the gym...
Only I am in absolutely no mood to go to the gym...
And in a flash, I tell myself I'll make it up somewhere else...
Even though I'll be shorting myself a workout this week...
Goddammit...
(Sidebar: I just re-read everything I just wrote, and realized that it sounds like something...else was going on. That's a negative on that. We just ate pasta and went to Home Depot. I promise you. So far as you know [giggles!]).
But seriously....no.
Regardless, when I woke up Friday morning, only one thought crossed my mind: ".....Shit." Now I have to make up a workout somewhere. I foolishly told myself that I would work out Friday morning and night, and I did hit the gym this morning, but I decided about .000067 seconds after I punched out that one workout was enough, and that what was best for my body was scouring YouTube and my television for fitness-related programming aka hey Ass, let's take a night off and worry about doubling up tomorrow. You've earned it!
Will I double up a workout tomorrow night? Or will I go double-or-nothing on Sunday, when I'm already supposed to run 2 miles? Guess you'll just have to stay tuned! Good day...
...I SAID GOOD DAY!
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