When I get to Heaven I plan on asking God a few questions.
1. Why is it that after a workout, days later your body is in excruciating pain, yet you look no different?
If you feel different, shouldn’t you look different?
2. I also want to know why God didn’t create a food-credit plan. If I pass up a donut or a loaf of bread, wouldn’t it have been nice of Him to let us bank the calories for later?
I should have known when I agreed to go and workout tonight, that I was going to pay for it later. My Stalker-Walker friend Gina has a screw loose. She really does. What person in their right mind smiles through a weight training class? Every time she would look over at me (hiding in the very back corner, by the huge fan, and behind the Jack Lalanne wanna-be) I would shoot her “I HATE YOU” looks, hoping to somehow use mind-power to knock her off her step-box thingamajig and wipe that ridiculous I-love-working-out smile off of her face.
You will be happy to know that half-way into our cardio class, I escaped. The instructor started jumping up in the air like a kangaroo, and my pathetic thimble sized mom-bladder was my excuse to flee. I have never had a strong desire to bounce a quarter off of my bum anyhow. I tried to hide from Gina upstairs, and hopped onto a treadmill to throw her off my scent. Thirty minutes on that contraption and I’d only burned calories equivalent to three grapes. She must have smelled my disgust, because she found me.
God, why did you give me a work-out crazy Stalker-Walker for a friend?
I guess some things we just won’t know this side of Heaven.
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