I am having a very bad attack of the “Idunwannas”. As in, “I don’t wanna go to the gym”. Yes, I appreciate the gym is not most people’s idea of a good time, but usually I am pretty keen to get there of a morning and even if I’m going to be doing something I loathe (as in this morning – spin class, erk), I am still keen simply for the fact that I’ll get it over with, feel better afterwards, and allow myself that extra glass of wine at dinner tonight.
Today, no such enthusiasm. I must admit though, I did have a biggish weekend. Worked all day Saturday, and then had lovely but somewhat wild friends come over for dinner, which turned into a sleepover. There was carousing until the wee hours (we woke the children, not very responsible) and even an ill-advised session of bowling on the Wii at about 5am. Yesterday was spent alternatively dozing on the lounge, feeling unwell, and helping kids with homework (not surprisingly, I was not terribly helpful). All of which probably explains why I’m not feeling much gusto about the gym.
But I will go. One of the things I love about my gym is that, during the day, it’s not packed with lycra-wearing perfectoids who sneer at those of us who have wobbly bits and wrinkles. It’s full of other freelancers and parents and a disproportionate number of airline stewards. Being a gym in Newtown full of airline stewards it’s also a very gay friendly place, which means there’s more fun and hilarity than I expect happens at other gyms.
Ah, which gives me hope! Mardi Gras was this weekend, which means everyone else at the gym will probably be feeling a tiny bit sorry for themselves. I will soldier on then, and join the land of the bleary eyed. At least it means I can have that glass of wine with dinner.
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