The Gym

I hate exercise. I mean hate. I dislike it immensely. I do not like sports. I do not like to watch them, I do not like to play them. I hate them all with an equal passion. I suck at them. I have two left feet who do not listen to me. I dance like Elaine on Seinfeld. I am completely uncoordinated, I trip and fall even at the ripe old age of 35. Seriously when it comes to things of a sporting nature I am severely screwed up.
Unfortunately for me I also possess a fat gene. (Actually I suspect I have many many fat genes.) Lets just say my ancestors were never going to starve to death. I put on weight by looking at food. I think chocolate bar and I am rewarded with my fat cells swelling. I actually put the chocolate in my mouth, I have instant poundage. Because of this stupid fat gene (or genes) it becomes necessary for me to exercise. If I dont I will end up being one of those people so fat they cant leave their bed and the next thing I know the Discovery channel will be making a documentary of my life.
On top of the fat gene I also have type 1 diabetes. I wear an insulin pump. This helps make exercise slightly more difficult. If I exercise too much or too long my blood sugar bottoms out and I have a my own personal Steel Magnolias moment. ( You know the one, where Julia Roberts freaks out and they have to pour orange juice down her? yeah, been there and done that.)
Ok so now I have two strikes against me uncoordinated, nonsports like and freaks out easily. But yet I drag myself to the gym. 4 times a week is my standard. I need to go 7 times a week. Seriously, my doctor said so. But I average 4. Rarely less, lots of times more. My standard is spin class. (Indoor cycling to music) If you have never been to Spin let me tell you it is hard. Some classes harder than others. My usual class (I go 3x a week to spin) is taught by a lovely girl, who is thin and fit and toned, with six pack abs. She looks awesome in spandex. She looks awesome sweaty. (I however resemble a large sow.) She has scary arm muscles, I know she can kick my ass and probably my husband's too. The other class I frequent (also spin) is taught by another lovely thin girl with six pack abs but her arms are a bit on the wimpy side. I am not afraid of her. I think I could squash her. LOL.
So my point? What was my point? Ah yes, today is spin day. With the first girl, the one who can kick some ass. 45 minutes of spinning and then 15 minutes of core work. Core work? Whats that you say? Core work is designed to make you hurt for the next few days. It involves lots of crunches, push ups, crazy leg lifts, these scary things called gliders, balance work. (Did I mention I have no sense of balance, I cannot stand on one foot for any length of time!) So on spin days like today I tend to have conversations with myself. They go like this:
Me: Gotta go change for the gym. gotta get the kids ready.
Self: You dont want to go there. She will kill you today. She is probably going to have race day.
Me: Eh, I can do it, I have been doing it for a year now.
Self: Yeah a year of all this work, have you lost any weight?
Me: Well no, but you keep convincing me to eat ice cream and cookies
Self: Well we deserve a treat.
Me: All this work, nothing to show for it
Self: Well we could just quit
Me; No because then the Discovery channel will be calling.
Self: All right fine, go get dressed but you will be sorry in an hour when you finish your tenth push up. You will wish you had listened then.
Me: Yeah I know.