The Sacrifices We Make

I hate exercise. But man-friend started this thing a couple months ago about "I've always said the woman I'm with has to take care of herself," and I'll be honest, when he said that to me, I was truly tempted to pinch one of his giant man boobs so hard that the nipple would come off. And then stuff it up that oversized ass of his.

"How's that for taking care of myself bitch?"

But I didn't. Because, even though I'm a firm believer in not changing yourself for someone else, he's definitely proven that he's worth making happy and if, in making him happy, I end up with a supermodel's ass...ah well, it might be worth it.

So I started lifting weights about a month ago. Turns out Man-friend used to be a personal trainer and was more than happy to 'customize a workout plan' for me. There goes that other nipple, right up the patooie.

And even though I hatE, haTE, hATE, HATE doing the work, I do enjoy the change I feel. I say feel because I took before pictures and compared them to month later pictures and still can't see one bit of change.

So then it pops into my mind "Hey, what would speed this thing up? I know! Running!" And I go out and buy new sneakers and sports bras, plan my course, psych myself up and get up the next morning, put the kid on the school bus, walk to the end of the driveway, stretch my legs and arms like they do in the movies, take a deep breath, and start running.

Well, it takes about 6.2 seconds to remember the one very important thing I had forgotten...of all the exercises in the world, I hate running the most. It occurs to me that I'd rather do a million crunches than run a mile. But at this point, I'm wearing at least $80 worth of clothing devoted specifically to running, so I'm kind of stuck. And I get really mad because the truth is, I don't even care about exercise, but now I'm doing it all the damn time.

Know what I do care about though? Cheesecake. My grandmother makes a great cheesecake and used to always bring it to family gatherings but no one but me ever ate it and so she barely makes it anymore. So, even though I care immensely about cheesecake, I don't have nearly enough of it in my life right now, and even though I don't give a fuck about back-fat, I have way too much of that.

So I run. I run, run, run and think about cheesecake. I dream about cheesecake. I can taste the cheesecake while I'm eating the garden salad with low fat dressing. I obsess over cheesecake with cherries, and sliced almonds, and lemon curd topping. And I keep reminding myself that this is just one of the sacrifices we make for the ones we love. But so help me, when I ask this man to buy me a $250 bikini to show off this hot body next summer, he better be willing to sacrifice back!