Wherkout
Somehow my semi-hungover ass got out of bed and went to the gym. I don't know WHAT possessed me to do it. Maybe it was the fact that I was already wearing gym clothes. Maybe it was because I had someone else to go with. Maybe I was still drunk. No idea. But when I got there and started on the elliptical... it wasn't bad. Even with that subtle haze over everything and a little throb in my temple it wasn't bad. It was great. I forgot about exercise, how it doesn't have to be a chore, how it can make one feel smashing (and maybe obnoxiously sore the next day but shh). It's like the months I spent going to the gym every day were erased from my memory. I'm too damn fat and sassy these days. I made up my mind that this semester I was going to get my shit together, both in school and in this flabby bag of bones I call a body. Until today I'd not done much about the latter. But now I know I'm going to. Because look kids, if you can go to the gym with a hangover, you can go EVERY DAMN DAY BOIIIIIIIII.
