*I wrote this a while back, but I thought it needed to be shared. Also, this is written as a joke. I’m the last person anyone should be turning to for advice on how to workout properly*
The first step to a cure is admitting you have a problem. Maybe one too many of your favorite articles of clothing “shrunk in the dryer.” Maybe you caught a glimpse of your naked self in the bathroom mirror and were stunned for all the wrong reasons. Maybe you were in the dressing room at your favorite store and txted you best friend (BFF) in a panic: ‘OMG! Im FAT! WTF?’ However you made the determination that there’s a little to much of you, now it’s time to do something about it.
First, tell your mother you want to start dieting. If you’re really as large as you think you are – and sometimes even if you aren’t, she will be overjoyed and begin to nag you mercilessly about your progress. Traditionally, this is supposed to work especially well if your mom is Italian or Jewish, but usually most mothers, regardless of ethnicity, will rise to the occasion with gusto. For extra “encouragement”, also tell a nosey grandma or auntie. Children, though generally very “persuasive”, are also, generally, very selfish and tend to reserve their fierce dedication and powers of annoyance for situations in which they are the sole beneficiaries. Translation – unless you want to keep bribing some little brat to keep after your lard ass, it’s better to leave this to the grown-ups. Why pay for something you could get free, especially in this economy? Besides, who nags you better than your mom?
Next, see all that yummy, bad-for-you food in your pantry and fridge? Well, it can’t stay there ready to tempt you in a moment of weakness, so what are you going to do with it? Those with a firm sense of resolve will get rid of it by throwing it away. How wasteful! The rest of us will have a “Day of Sin”/”*Jour de Gras” – whatever you want to call it – and savor the last bits of junk food we’ll be eating for quite some time. The next morning your stomach will feel very bad indeed and you won’t have much of a desire for most of that food for a while. Also, after you consider that your caloric intake for the previous day probably looked a hell of a lot like Bernie Madoff’s bank statement before the Feds got to the lousy bastard, you’re most likely already googling area gyms. Perhaps, if you have one, you could consider inviting your workout buddy to ensure continued dedication to the cause. Now is also the time to go grocery shopping if your constitution can handle being around copious amounts of food at the moment. You won’t buy out the store and what you do buy will be healthy because you’ve taken care of your craving for snacks and such with your “Day of Sin”.
Now it’s time to pick a gym and join it. Do a little research, pick a place where you think you’ll be comfortable, and then go and check it out. Does it smell of feet? Is the workout area such a mess that you wonder if it was a test site for anti-personnel weapons? Are the showers, locker room, restroom, ect… a health code violation? If you answer yes to any of these things turn around and leave, possibly placing a call to the Better Business Bureau as you do, and find someplace that makes the cut. When you do join a gym, and if it’s in your realm of financial possibility, hire a personal trainer or take classes so there’s someone there to hold you to your goals and otherwise whip your roly-poly self into shape.
Once you join the gym, GO! The money is already out of your pocket, so make good use of what you spent it on even after the “Day of Sin” guilt wears off. As you are jogging away on the treadmill or doing whatever it is that you do on an elliptical – ellipticaling? – take note of what bouncing that shouldn’t be and let that be a reminder as to why you’re there in the first place. Enjoy watch the little calorie-loss-counter-thing slowly go up as you huff and puff for a half hour, or hour, or whatever. Congratulations! It’s the end of your first work out and you’ve lost the caloric equivalent of a snack-sized bag of Pop Secret (without butter) and three carrots. Makes it hard to justify that post-gym trip to Dairy Queen now, doesn’t it?
Finally, as you lay on your bed, sore and tired, try to find the sense of accomplishment you should theoretically have.
*Jour de Gras – French – Day of Fat