Going to the gym...

I have not gone to the gym religiously.... ever. I was never one of those girls to love working out, go running, or anything like that. I'd prefer a nice bike ride or a hike. I'd rather spend the day building a big set in a theatre lifting platforms and moving lights. I never found running in place to be a worthwhile activity. And whoever the hell thought lifting big heavy things in sets and repetition would be fun is just insane. Long story short, I hate working out.

So why the hell am I doing it around four days a week?

Because earlier this summer I mused out loud, "Hm, maybe when I go to Disney I will start going to the gym." And Ryan overheard it. So in Iraq he started working out. And eating healthy. He is doing it in the desert, I should be able to do it here, right? Long story short my lazy ass is in the gym now.

We have bickered about it, talked about it, and now I am going. Like I said, I hate working out. But I love Ryan, so I am doing it.

Luckily my apartment is the closest possible one to the gym or it would never happen.

I am up to 15 minutes a day on the elliptical (not a lot I know, but like I said, moving in place? Not my idea of fun) and I do some free weights and machines with exercises my suddenly all healthy lean, mean, fighting machine boyfriend recommended. I figured I could fudge my way around for a few months and gradually work up to it, but now with Ryan coming home so soon (YAY) I really need to stick with it. And eat healthy.

We'll ignore the chicken fingers and fries I had for dinner. It will be our little secret, ok?