Look, I'm resigned to the fact that I'm never going to be one of those people that love going to the gym. In fact, I hate those people that say things like, "I had the BEST workout," or "I love the endorphins you get from a great workout." First of all, I don't like people who "workout". You exercise. Stop making yourself feel like you've accomplished something. Second, you can't put positive adjectives in the same sentence as the word "workout". It makes you a tool. Third, chocolate gives you endorphins as well and doesn't make you hate the world. The only think I'll give exercise is: "Exercise gives you endorphins. Endorphins make you happy. Happy people don't go and kill their husbands." But since I have no husband then there is no point.
And now I am in a world of pain. Today was the worst one yet. Just when I think I'm making a little progress (HA! To me, progress is getting up off the couch to change the channel because our landlords can't be arsed buying us a remote control with more than two channels working on it... so I only watch SBS and channel 10...) the stupid trainer guy goes and does something stupid like spending 40 minutes of our session doing arm stuff.
So here's the thing: I have no strength in my upper body. In fact, maybe the remote control actually works but I just don't have the energy to lift it so the TV sensor can register the fact that I've pressed a button. So tonight he doesn't just make us do the machine arm things, which the bitch knows I hate, but he also makes us do free weights. It was very funny actually - Emma's there doing her thang and lifting the shit out of those hand weights, and there's me struggling to even lift one. I swear I hit myself in the head a couple of times. He eventually took mine down from 10kg to 7.5kg, not that I could tell the difference by then, what with my arms having zero energy left in them. 10kg, 7.5kg, it's all more than 100g, so it is all not going to work for me.
And now I'm hurting. Usually I hurt the next day, and then worse the day after, so it's a bad sign that the pain has already begun.
I would call home and whinge to my nan, but she tends to make my whinging phonecalls all about her: yes, your arms hurt Sarah, but I fell and broke my hip today/ can't lift anything due to arthritis /I had to clean the entire house and now I'm in hospital due to the bleach fumes knocking me unconscious. Whinge whinge whinge. So selfish. Everything's all about her.
Actually, I will call her cos it's been a couple of days since I spoke to her. WHY HASN'T SHE CALLED ME???????