The Horror House

Do you ever do something you don’t want to?  You dread it, yet you go ahead with it?  It scares you, yet you still can’t stop yourself?  Nope, not talking about scary movies or haunted houses….I’m talking about going to the gym.  Yep, the gym.  I hate going to the gym so much that I would rather poke my eye out with a rusted knife and then spill sriracha sauce over it.  Sometimes I drive to the gym and don’t even make it out of my car.  I just sit there in my car surfing Instagram, on occasion looking out into the parking lot and watching super skinny moms (those bitches!) walk out in their super cool, sporty work out gear and drive off.  I do this for about 15 min and then put my car in reverse and go back home.

The times I do make it out of my car and INTO the gym I make it as far as the steam room, I figure I can sweat off a couple of calories right?  Recently, I’ve actually ventured out to the treadmill area, looked at it, walked around the track (in super slow motion), came back to the treadmill, looked at it again and then walked myself back to the steam room (this has got to be another couple of calories).

Most, most recently I actually made it on to the treadmill, and lasted about 1 min and 30 second…love, love, super love the big red stop button.

I just cant’ do it! I hate it!  I hate it more than taking a dump in port-a-potty!  I hate all the cliche pictures (I set one up as my featured pic to piss the rest of you off), I super hate all the Victoria Secret models, it’s like STOP sending me the latest swim suit catalog!!!!  I’ve unsubscribed a billion times!  I swear I think they do it deliberately, just to piss me off.   They probably sit there and laugh as they mail out another catalog to me.

If god ever gave me a genie and I had 3 wishes, I swear one of my wishes would be no matter how much or what I ate I would forever look like Rosie Hungtington-Whiteley, like FOREVER.

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