Well, WordPress updated. And it sucked. And then I updated the update. And it sucks less, but it still sucks.
This site looks like crap, and I’m too frustrated to get my husband’s help with it. Maybe this weekend he can help me.
Another downhill upgrade in my life is the new Planet Fitness in town. My friends (who I occasionally–less and less often since I moved farther outside of town–exercised with) are in love with the place. Me? I am having palpitations just thinking about going to a public gym to work out. I mean, at the park when we exercised I was pretty much the least physically fit of the group, but my husband was there with me, and my friends were supportive. Then, as time went on and it got colder outside, the location and days of the week changed, so I couldn’t make it to the workouts as often because of my work schedule. Gradually hubby got fed up with the exercise and stopped going. I tried to keep going when I could, but even with encouraging friends I felt like a literal fifth wheel. I mean, two couples supporting each other and working out together and then there was fat old me alone in the back, barely able to keep up with the things.
Fast forward to spring, when Estrella War got in the way of everything. I stopped going long enough to lose momentum and drive, and my workouts became more infrequent. The work schedule kept getting in the way. When I moved to the outskirts of town, that was basically the beginning of the end… and now? Now they’re going to a gym.
Why does the gym bother me so much more than the park? Partly it’s because I have a deep-seated fear of being made fun of. Everyone makes fun of the fat girl trying to exercise. I can’t get the image of skinny hipsters pointing and snickering out of my head. It happened at the park, but with my husband there I felt safe. I won’t have that safety net at the gym. I’ll be with friends, but I’ll be alone with friends. Only we won’t be alone. There will be other people working out, and in a few weeks it’s just going to get worse. New Year’s resolutions and all that.
I want to get in better shape, but I don’t know if I can follow my friends… and I feel even more like an idiot exercising by myself than I would at a gym. And by now, I’ve missed so many workout sessions that I’m further behind than I was when I started. I’m fatter and slower and more awkward. I look dumb trying to pretend I can ever get in shape again.
I can’t even afford to go to a dietitian or a gastric bypass surgeon. I’m just going to be fat and gross forever because I can’t get past this. And my friends are trying to encourage me, but I feel pressured. Like, heavily pressured. And it makes me balk even more.
I feel guilty not working out. I feel guilty eating poorly. I feel guilty for a lot of things. And I feel gross. Disgusting. I see that abdominal fold and I want to throw up. I see pictures of me taken by other people and I want to throw up.
Too bad I’m not bulemic. Maybe then I’d at least lose some of this disgusting extra weight.