So, it has officially been 6 months since I last worked out. Somewhere in those 6 months I THINK I took a pilates class or two. But pretty much my only steady work outs have been the walks to the train. And the walks back. Sometimes I'll walk to the grocery store, which is 5 blocks away. I try to convince myself that I walk a lot more than I do, but now that I'm actually writing it out, I realize that I don't walk that much at all.
Working out really sucks for me. Some girls like it though! Those girls are the ones that say stuff like "oh it totally de-stresses me"! Or the ones that perpetrate the myth that "working out during my period TOTALLY relieves my cramps". As far as I'm concerned, these girls are big skinny liars! Working out actually stresses me out more, mostly because I have never gotten over the fact that I always feel like I'm dying during those first 10 minutes. And when it comes to my period, working out just makes me feel really sweaty. With cramps. Summary--in the fantasy land of Gee, working out is not a good look. I know that attitude is really unhealthy and gross and all that stuff, so I try to blame my inactiveness on other stuff, like this: "I can't join a gym because I have no money!" That might be true, possibly. But yeah, it really is mostly because I'm super lazy.
I used to work out though. In fact, I used to work out 6 days a week, twice a day. I did this when I was in college, for months at a time. I did it mostly because I felt really bad about myself. I was one of those girls that truly believed that being anything over a size 4 was fat. I don't know why I thought that, but I did. As a kid, I was always a little chubby. Never dangerously, but always a little pudgy. Then I went to college in New York. For someone with already established body issues, it was a pretty shitty city to go to college in. Everyone around me was really really skinny, mostly because they did a lot of coke. Logically, I knew that. I also knew that at 5'2" and 130 lbs, I had boobs, hips, thighs, and a butt that would never really go away. That was only logically, though. On the whole I am not logical. So I acted accordingly and worked out excessively and ate 800 calories a day until, in just 2.5 months, I was down to 102 lbs. But I still wasn't skinny. I still had said boobs, hips, thighs, and butt, albeit smaller versions. I didn't look like the wafer thin cokeheads, or runway bitches. Even after busting my ass, destroying my social life, and becoming obsessed with the rowing machine. Then, I think it somehow just clicked. And I got off the elliptical and had a cookie, and lived to tell the tale.