What Goes On Inside A Girl's Mind At The Gym

We're halfway through February, which means the resolutioners who started sweating bullets and eating rabbit food Jan. 1 are either pacing really well and super impressed with themselves or they're pretty much #overit at this point, ready to be all "WHATEVS. This is what I look like, DEAL WITH IT" on their impending Spring Break mini vacay.  In all honesty, I back the whole "New Year, New Me" thing. Humans work better when they have an easy-to-remember start date for their goals. I think that, for every 365 days you survive, you deserve another 365 to do better. But that doesn't mean it's fun or easy. In fact, really committing to changing your lifestyle (because, let's be real — extreme dieting or extreme exercise don't last and don't work long-term. It's a true lifestyle change... FOR LIFE) is A BITCH.

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As someone who used to proudly exclaim her incapability to awake in the mornings for anything besides barely making it to work on time, the fact that I've somehow been able to train myself to get up at 6am twice a week for morning workouts is beyond me. But just because I do that doesn't mean it's super easy (after all, any workout that's "easy" is for PUSSIES, AMIRITE?). It's all hard and it all can suck, so that's why I now present to you what I'm willing to bet is most girls' thought process before, during, and after her gym sessions.

For reality's sake, let's start the fretting mid-day.

1:00pm: Gym time in t-minus 5ish hours. I swear, gym days creep up on me so fast. Good thing I ate that extra mini muffin this morning — clearly I'll need the energy for tonight.

1:30pm: Oh no. I have a headache. Oh god. What if it doesn't go away by the time I'm supposed to be working out??? I can't skip tonight. My entire routine will be ruined and I'll gave 23 pounds by day's end.

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1:35pm: Hi, does anyone any advil? I'm going to awkwardly announce it's to get rid of this headache so I can make it to the gym tonight because telling you that not only makes me feel thinner, but also holds me accountable. You'll never know whether or not I actually went, and chances are you'll never see me in a swimsuit or naked to track my progress, but it just helps me to say it out loud, OKAY?!

3:00pm: Dammit. My headache's gone. Guess I'm working out tonight.

5:00pm: Oh my god. It's almost time. What if it's really crowded? What if I can't get my favorite dumbbells? What if every single cardio machine in the entire building is taken? Well then I guess I say I tried and head home, right?

5:15pm: NO. NO. No matter what, I will figure some sort of something out. I can't give up that easily. I can't! I WON'T!

5:16pm: Plus, I have those adorable new workout pants to sport. They need to be used properly. That's why I bought them.

5:17pm: Slash for running errands on a Saturday and looking effortlessly cool and athletic. Fake it til' you make it, I hear they say.

5:45pm: Fuck me. No parking. Great. Guess I'll have to park FAR away and WALK to the gym. Why is everyone so motivated? GO HOME.

5:50pm: Having to drive around this extra 5 minutes is enough to turn me away from this all together. I mean I could be home by now, petting my dog and battling my inner demons on whether or not I can treat myself to a glass of wine. 

5:55pm: Yeah, hi. I'm fine, gym greeter person behind the front desk. Why do you even ask? I mean, I'm here, aren't I? That should be enough for you. Just let me scan my card and leave me be.

5:58pm: How does one avoid making eye contact with other naked women in the locker room? Oh hi, someone's nipples! How are you today, random stranger's booty? Actually, that's a good butt. Bitch.

6:00pm: AND WE'RE OFF. HERE WE GO. LET'S DO THIS. I'M READY. I'M GOOD ENOUGH, I'M SMART ENOUGH, AND GOSH DARNIT, I'M GONNA TRY AND LIFT 10-LB DUMBBELLS TODAY WITHOUT TURNING BEET RED AND PANTING LIKE A DYING HORSE.

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6:03pm: ::shoelace comes untied:: God, I hate when that happens. I feel like a kindergartner who just learned how to tie shoes. Don't worry, everyone here who didn't notice. I'm fixing it after this set.

6:10pm: Is it normal to be sweating this badly already? Doesn't look like any other female here is, so...

6:12pm: OMG — can you see the crotch sweat I can so clearly feel? ::checks discreetly:: No, no you can't. Oh thank you, little baby Jesus.

6:15pm: I guess I just don't understand why can't I, like, do all this and be a pound lighter when I leave the gym every time? That would be way more motivating. 

6:16pm: Oh. Cause' I guess that would mean burning 3,500 calories in the hour I'm here. Which means I would die. That would suck. I don't wanna die. Not here, not tonight. Not next to this gay man wearing tighter clothes than I ever have or this fake-boobed narcissist doing the butt machine and the butt machine only.

6:20pm: ::moves into free weight area, in front of big mirrors:: Oh wow. I look thin! Omg. COOL!

6:22pm: ::moves to different area of same mirror:: Wow, I'm HUGE. Have I gained 5 pounds in the 20 minutes I've been here??? I HATE THIS SHIT.

6:23pm: Look at that chick, doing curls with 15-lb dumbbells like it's nothing. I'll get there someday, lady. Just you wait. ALL OF YOU JUST WAIT ::heavy breathing after lifting 7.5-lb dumbbells::

6:27pm: Squats make me uncomfortably vulnerable to farting involuntarily. 

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6:28pm: They also make me feel like a wannabe-twerker. For all these gawking males know, maybe I'm just training my booty to twerk better. They'd be saddened to know all that moves on me when I twerk are my boobs. 

6:30pm: WHEW. That strength training had to have burned, like, 400 calories ::checks heart rate monitor/FitBit/whatever the fuck:: Oh. Only almost 200. No, that's fine. I just felt like I was dying the entire time, but I'll take 200.

6:31pm: Cardio, here I come. 

::walks up the stairs at Grandma pace::

6:32pm: If the Kardashians aren't on E!, I refuse to cooperate during this portion of the night. Refuse.

6:33pm: Not running next to that obvious marathoner. Nor next to that man who will double my pace. In fact, not running directly next to anyone. Everyone knows the best bitches need at least one treadmill or elliptical in-between her and another person. I don't want to smell you, I don't want you to smell me, and I also want to protect myself from reading your stats and comparing them to my own. THX.

6:35pm: YAAAAAS! KARDASHIANS! Okay, ladies. Get me through this hell with your drama and 42 pounds of makeup. Encourage me to run harder with every glass of wine you sip and plate of food you pick at.

6:40pm: I can't do this. 

6:40:30pm: Yes I can.

6:41pm: Okay, I made it a minute. I can make it for 24 more. 

6:42pm: Nope. No. Not thinking anything negative. Let's see what happens if I shut down my mind.

6:45pm: OMG I MADE IT THREE MORE MINUTES. I'm basically a certified runner now. 

6:45:45pm: I can't make it 20 more minutes. Why is this so hard? WHY couldn't I have been born a natural sprinter? I would literally have to worry about nothing, ever. "Donuts? Great! Heavy beer? Even better! An extra piece of pizza? Yes, please! Why? Because I'll run it all off tomorrow anyway with little to no effort." Man, FUCK those people.

6:47pm: Come on, girl. You've done this before. You can do it again. Think about the people behind you, watching. Show them you're a strong ass yogger (the "j" is soft).

6:48pm: I'm horny.

6:49pm: I am FOR SURE having that glass of wine tonight. Run toward the wine, Emma. Run toward the sweet nectar of the gods!

6:52pm: 13 more minutes. 13. In three minutes, it'll be 10. Power... power...

6:54:30pm: I wonder how I look when I run. It's like, I wanna see but also if I do see and it's awful, I'll never do it again. 

6:55pm: Tittes titties bounce bounce. 

6:56pm: I can't be sure with these headphones in, but I'm almost positive I'm breathing like a wounded water buffalo.

6:57pm: Kourtney is literally dead behind the eyes. I wonder what's back there besides nothing?

6:59pm: I want to bathe in a bathtub of Rotini noodles and pasta sauce tonight. Literally bathe in it. Just like get in, one foot at a time, sink down into, and not leave until I've eaten my way out.

7:00pm: OMG 5 MORE MINUTES. I AM GOING TO PASS OUT.

7:00:30pm: 4.5 minutes. I'm doing it, I'm doing it. LOOK EVERYONE! COME SEE HOW GOOD I YOG!

7:02pm: Man, this feels good now. I could go for another 10 minutes, easily.

7:03pm: LOLJK. I'm too hungry. Plus, I don't wanna push it, y'know? Baby steps.

7:04pm: HOME STRETCH! Finish strong! You just ran, like, two full miles! You're a beast! You're so skinny! You're so fit and toned!

7:05pm: And we are done here. Thanks, everyone, I'll be here all week. JK. I'll be here two more times this week. That's the best I can do.

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7:07pm: ::in gym locker room:: WHY AM I NOT AT LEAST 5 POUNDS LIGHTER AFTER THAT? UUUUGGGGHHHH.

Keep on fighting the good fight to stay active, ladies. It's a struggle, but it's worth it if for nothing else than the cute clothes.

xox,

emma

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