Agony On The Elliptical

I have put on my workout clothes, ready to head to my fitness center. I pay $25 a month to abuse myself three times a week, usually Monday and Wednesday evening, and Saturday, sometimes Sunday afternoon. On Monday and Wednesday I will usually put on my workout gear right after work and then delay going to the fitness center until after 9PM. I will doddle and put off my workouts until it is almost too late for me to go. This evening I've decided to waste some time by writing in my blog. I guess I want to avoid the torture as long as I can. But I always end up going. I do not know the last time I missed one of my scheduled workouts.

I will spend a half hour on either some form of elliptical, or else an exercise bike. When I get on one of these torture devices I do not mess around. I will warm up for a few minutes and then go at pretty near my cardiovascular limit for most of the 30 minutes. If after 15 minutes I’m not starting to get a little shiny from perspiration, then I figure I’m not trying hard enough. Every once in a while I will have a few drops of sweat roll down my face and drip from my chin, especially if the fitness center is warm. It is not a pretty sight.  

I am motivated into this anguish because I know I do not eat very healthily. When I’m in the habit of making dinner for more than just me, I’m halfway conscientious about food, but when I’m on my own it gets pretty disgusting. My mom says that I am “the queen of the microwave oven”. She’s just about right. My standard dinner usually consists of some microwave entree. I prefer Stouffer’s products, but I’ll often go with something cheaper, especially if it needs less time microwaving. I could select the “lean” entrees, but I don’t. I go for full flavor, full calorie. Sometimes I will drink a glass of red wine with my microwave dinner, especially if I am dining on microwave spaghetti or lasagna. It’s not unusually for me to microwave some mini burrito as an evening snack. It often depends on whether I have any microwave popcorn on hand.

My mother doesn’t know about my peanut butter problem. I don’t know what nickname she’d have for me if she knew. I cannot buy peanut butter because I love it so much that I will go through an entire jar in two days. To avoid temptation I steer clear of the peanut butter section in the grocery store. I will consume so much peanut butter at one time that it will bind up my digestive system so bad that I will get half sick. I’ll put peanut butter on regular bread, bagels, crackers, bananas, and a number of other edibles. If I'm in a hurry I’ll spoon it down straight. It’s pretty gross.

On a slightly positive note; I eat my morning Kellogg’s Raisin Brand with skimmed milk, a fact that does very little to appease my mother.