I'm not fat....I'm textured

So somewhere over discussing health issues and getting older with my bestie, I decided to start working out.  I may have been under the influence of something unbeknownest to me, because anyone who knows me, knows I don't work out.  I'm 32 and besides a couple month stint in the gym after my second child (which did not make much of a difference) I have never worked out.  I'm not the girl worried about her caloric intake.  I don't even own a scale! The number does not bother me, nor does the size.  I am very comfortable in my skin.  But, I decided to work out none the less.  I promised the sig 30 days, and then we'd go to the gym together.  Partially because I need a head start to catch up with his form, but more likely, because he didn't want to pay for a membership if I were just gonna blow it off.  Fine and good. 

So, I've always believed that you can't start anything mid week.  Monday is always the starting point.  If I stop on Tuesday, I'll restart next Monday.  Yes, that's my laziness kicking in. 

Well this lovely day, I got up early.  I laced up those trainers and slid into the shorts. I came to the living room and loaded my workout on youtube. I was ready..... until about 35 seconds into the warm up.  This portion was only 3 minutes long, and I was already dying.  I was sweating.  I don't sweat, but there was perspiration rolling down my back and forehead.  It wasn't delicate, graceful lady glistening either, but full on man sweat. Horrendous pourage rolling in mass quantities down my spine! My thighs were burning, and my shorts were suddenly rubbing uncomfortably against them.  By the time the real music began, I was almost to tears.  What did I get myself into?!

Before the first verse of song #2 was over, I was shaking head to toe. My butt and legs were on fire! I couldn't breathe! Almost certain of my impending doom, I slowed down just a tad.  The thoughts running through my head were of me lying on the floor dead from a massive heart attack with a toddler home alone all day.  How would he explain that to his therapist? How would the sig explain this to the world?  Oh yea so my girlfriend decided to be more healthy and died on day 1 of the work out. AHHHH!

I made it through the second song, and when the third started to play I was on to thoughts of lunch.  Did we have any donuts left? Man I could really use a cheese burger.  The thoughts of sushi, and ice cream, and cookies, and dill pickle chips just flooded my mind.  At this point my legs were numb.  I had stopped wondering if my gut was still jiggling, because I couldn't feel anything other than my armpits screaming for me to quit.  I didn't know there were muscles in your armpits by the way.  Maybe that's why boobs start to sag. 

At this point, my shorts were soaked. My feet were slipping around in my runners like I'd just jogged through a creek bed.  My shirt was sticking to me in the extremely irritating way like someone at the concert spilled beer all over you, but you paid way too much money for this ticket to go home, and there's no way you're getting an assault charge for hitting them.  So you just deal with it.  I was starving! All I wanted was a carbonated beverage of ANY kind. 

I thought I was going to pass out.  I couldn't do another leg lift.  I couldn't squat again.  I probably won't be able to squat for a week to be honest.  I looked down at the clock. IT HAD ONLY BEEN 7 MINUTES!!!!  Are you serious?! I can't even breathe through 7 minutes of exercize without having heart palpatations and fearing cardiac arrest? This 30 days may very well be the longest of my life.  I think it's possible that it could be longer than the last 6 weeks of pregnancy. 

I'm not sure being in shape is for me.  Maybe it's ok to be a little pudgy.  After all I've dealt with my weight and dimples this long, what's a few more years? I'm white, like porceline white.  I can't tan.  I don't tan. It's just not in the genes for me, and I'm ok with that.  I have the map of Asia around my belly button.  That belly button on a good day looks a little mishapen, but on a bad day appears to have a tiny hand pushing out of it.  It's a hernia, and it doesn't bother me.  I still wear my swim suit.  I still rock some shorts.  Life is way too short for all this stress.  I'm not niave enough to say I will go on a diet. It won't happen.  I like greasy food, and fries, and chips, and brownies, and cake, and omg that sounds amazing right now. I'm salivating, so I'm going to wrap this up. 

In short, I'm ok with my size. I'm not going to quit, because I promised the sig 30 days.  Who knows, maybe I'll even start to enjoy it.  Until then, I'll be the one vegging out on the couch with every item of junk food in this house.  If anyone's down for burgers for lunch, come get me! I'll buy.