Remember when Mrs. Fleming forced me to eat ice cream in eight grade?

Today I ate the Lean Cuisine macaroni and cheese. It was not good. This is devastating because I LOVE mac & cheese. LOVE IT. The Bob Evan's kind is my kryptonite. And I haven't had it in two months. That is serious. I recently discovered while slipping into my probably too-old-to-display-in-public high school bikini from J. Crew, that I had a spare tire situation going on that I was unfamiliar with. WELL. I got over that pretty fast and decided that my diet of exclusively macaroni and cheese and Willy's was probably not a good plan. It was also clear that exercise was impending. Anyone who knows me knows that I fear and detest physical movement of any kind and I absolutely do not run unless I am being chased. So this is a life changing situation we are talking about.

I have joined the YMCA. It is not just for young Christian men and Village People. It is full of eliptical machines, treadmills, weight machines, classes, and unbelievable freak weirdos for me to watch work out. I cannot even describe most of them. There are the ones who make odd exhaling sounds while lifting that sound like the pistons on a dump truck. I can hear their persistent wheezing through the blaring headphones I have plugged into ABC family on my eliptical. Then there are the ones that are so exhausted on the stair master that they are leaning all the way over on it and practically consummating their relationship with the machine. And then there are my favorite people: the ones who are giving themselves an out-loud pep-talk while rowing on the rowing machine. It's great fun all around.

If you're looking for me at the Y, I'm the girl on the eliptical with it set to intensity level 1 and softly crying. Thanks womanhood, for taking back that metabolism. Awesome.