Monday, September 26, 2011
Last July I joined the gym. I've been there twice. Once to check out the place and once to check out the tanning beds. I don't really like tanning beds. I think they are a great way to age 10 years in 10 minutes, but I wanted to see them in case I needed a quick tan before I went to Florida again. So, I went back and checked out the place again. When I looked at all the equipment, I didn't get excited at all. I didn't feel like I could hardly wait to try everything out. I didn't feel like a kid in a toy store. Nothing. No thrills. At all. My therory was, I thought if I joined the gym and had the money coming out of my account every month, I would be sure to get my bottom up there. Turns out, I just don't wanna. Money loss or not. I. Don't. Wanna. So, today I canceled my membership. On one hand I feel kind of dissapointed in myself. I always follow through. If I start something, I finish it. But, this time it just didn't work out. On the other hand, there is a relief that the nagging little voice that keeps saying, "Go to the gym!" will be leaving. Oh, I am sure there will be another nagging little voice that will come along and replace it. After all, I still have those 3 pound weights that feel like 3,009 pounds and that pilates DVD that's never been opened, in my closet. Might have to donate them to the boys ranch. I hate a nag.