Some days you just have to accept that you’re going to be a crabby bitch. Today is that day for me. Welcome to my bitch-fest!
I really wanted to skip the gym because, well, I always want to skip the gym. But it wasn’t an option, specifically because I made this beautiful poster yesterday:
Well, that’s pretty straight forward I’d say.
I trudged in. Crabby. One of the girls that we work out with, who I typically like, even though she is about my polar opposite (think girlie girl – sparkly cell phone, fake… well, everything, shorts 2 sizes too small, hair done, etc) walked right in front of me as I was approaching a machine and started using it. I know it wasn’t intentional at all, but my brain immediately went into attack mode. I was further enraged by her singing along to her ipod, which was playing Rhianna, which to me is akin to listening to a dying cat.
I wish I could say that I experienced some kind of huge turn around moment, but I can’t. People got in my way while I was side shuffling (how DARE they work out in the same building as me), benches were moved right into the path I was running in (assholes – the weight room is obviously for running laps around, not weight training) and my heart rate got up to 183 on the elliptical (whaaaat?).
That’s that. I am crabby. Fuck it. It happens.
I did do pull ups today. All is not lost.