Step Class

Purple v-neck tee, black crop leggings, florescent pink and blue sneakers. I look like an average girl at the gym. Then why do I feel so out of place here? I don't actually go often enough that's definitely a reason. But it's also because I believe myself to be unathletic, which I've found to be more hindering than any other factor keeping me from physical fitness. Gym class was never a place where I shined, or even enjoyed myself. It was a source of dread and shame. Now here I am, a college graduate and actually paying to do the classes I used to hate.

This evening's class was step aerobics. I arrived a little early, just enough time to put my coat in a locker and watch the end of the class before. It was a bootcamp with a large black man with a booming voice. I liked him, he seemed encouraging and jolly. As it turned out he was the teacher for my class, too. As soon as everyone had said hello to each other (they seemed to all know each other! I felt conspicuously new) George bellowed to the class to get ready and with no further introduction started a very fast step workout. Everyone in the room started doing these step moves to his directions, lunging and kicking and stepping and grape-vining and sashaying almost in unison. I was constantly four or five steps behind and embarrassingly moving in the wrong direction constantly. The older woman behind me gave me some pointers over the break and I tried to concentrate on being as dancerly as possible to keep up with these insane step workout people. 

I'm proud of myself for actually going, and I did a pilates class last week. Last night I did some lifting with L and his buddy, and my arms and thighs are definitely sore. Trying to keep up an actual fitness routine, I want to take up hiking in the spring. 

L isn't here at the moment and I feel his absence acutely. We've been spending days on end here, ordering in food and watching ridiculous television. Smoking and going out to parties, wild sex at all hours. Then there's the fighting, the worrying, the lies and truths all muddled up. And the love, the sweet, true, exhilarating love. My heart flutters when he says nice things, refers to our future together, when he smiles at me with his doe eyes. It sinks and shrivels and dies in my chest when he turns away from me cold, offended by my applications to faraway jobs. I love him, I need him by my side. 

Shouldn't Have

These size 6R American Eagle "super skinny" jeans are cutting into my fat rolls. This pair fit me fine at 130 and even 138, but started to get uncomfortable after I got past 140 and then 145. 148 this morning, I am a disgrace.

I joined a gym that's just down the street but I've used it no more than 5 times so far. I have to cancel it for my finances sake, it's dumb to pay for something I almost never use.

Yesterday and the day before were lost days. My city was sent back into lock down mode because of yet another snow storm. So I spent all day monday with my boyfriend, watching movies and having sex and eating pizza and chinese. Tuesday I was alone, but I repeated monday's activities except for the sex. Now, two days later I am awakening from my hazy marathon binge and I feel awful about myself. why do I keep doing this?

I cannot wait for summer to come.