I didn’t make it to the gym today. That makes 20 years straight. I should get a chip or something.
I hate everything about the gym. I hate the whole idea of a gym. Striving for self-improvement in that way comes dangerously close to declaring oneself not quite good enough as is, and I’m not having it. Something about all those people sweating on all of those machines, climbing stairs to nowhere, running in place, it just upsets me.
My husband just got a gym membership. I assumed it would sit in his wallet as unused as the bike he got last year, but I was wrong. He’s at the gym at 5 in the goddamn morning every other day. (Did you know there was a FIVE in the MORNING? I seem to remember it from the first few months of my child’s life, but other than that I refuse…
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