It’s summer, and you’re either back home with your parents, working some boring 9-5 internship, or slumming around your college town bored because all your friends are somewhere else having a better time than you. You think this would be the perfect time to jumpstart your health and start working out and eating healthy. You have oodles of free time and you’re starting to run out of things to watch on Netflix. If you really dedicate yourself, when you start school in a few weeks you can come back looking hotter than ever.
That kind of naïve optimism leads you to forget one thing: you absolutely HATE working out. Sweating? Ew. You don’t even like tanning outside unless you’re next to a pool. I’m not saying I don’t believe in you and don’t think you could do it, because I do, but I’ve been there and I know that this is exactly how it goes.
Stage 1: Denial
Do you really have to give up pizza and tequila? They’re the only things that have been there for you through it all! Sorry to break it to you, but abs are made in the kitchen, so carbs are off limits if you want to lose those stubborn few pounds that have been hanging around your mid section since freshman year. The quicker you get past this stage, the faster you can post that #TransformationTuesday of your flab to fab stomach on Instagram.
Stage 2: Anger
Congrats! You’ve made it to stage two! You won’t be happy for long, because this is the part where you remember why you don’t work out or ever step foot in a gym: because it sucks and everyone around you is better looking. The girls around you are skinnier and have bigger asses than you, how is that even possible? Oh yeah, squats. You start doing squats. Fuck squats. Your legs feel like jello and you almost fell over in front of the hot guy doing bench press.
Why do people pay money to be members of a gym when it’s basically the same thing as paying someone to torture you? You leave the gym pissed off, sweaty, and tired. Who are these liars that say they get high off endorphins? You’re pretty sure endorphins are what’s making you want to physically murder every other person in the gym so you can say you’re the skinniest person in the gym.
Stage 3: Bargaining
You’re starting to lose sight of your goal. You thought you wanted to be skinny, but maybe you would be just as happy if you were drunk off margs at brunch with your friends instead of being at the gym. You make little deals with yourself. If you do ten minutes on the stairmaster, you can spend another ten minutes on Twitter. If you go to the gym today, you can pick up Chick-fil-A on the way home and not feel guilty about it.
Allow me to interject for a minute here to tell you that you’re stupid for doing things like this. What’s the point of working out if you’re just going to stuff your face after and ruin the very, very minuscule amount of progress you’ve made? That feeling of regret that hits you after you’ve finished all your fries leads you right into the arms of the next stage.
Stage 4: Depression
You hate working out. You hate everything. Working out has made you a horrible, angry person, and you’ve only lost like, two pounds. And that doesn’t even really count because last night you said “fuck this diet” and drank yourself into oblivion, which caused you to get violently sick and sleep next to the toilet. So now you’re hungover at the gym and everything sucks. You start to wonder if all this is really worth braving a bikini on the beach. That’s why they invested high waisted shorts and cute cover ups, right?
Stage 5: Acceptance
You gave it a shot. You tried to be a “gym bunny,” you really did. It’s just not meant for you. It doesn’t coincide with your lifestyle, and by lifestyle, I mean ordering takeout for every meal and your affinity for sugary drinks and things made with gluten. You’re happy with the way you look. Well, not happy, but if you use the time you would’ve spent at the gym learning how to contour like a Kardashian, you can fake it. .
Nice Move302
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Cristina Montemayor
Cristina is a Grandex Writer and Content Manager. She was an intern for over two years before she graduated a semester early to write about college full time, which makes absolutely no sense. She regretfully considers herself a Carrie, but is first and foremost a Rory. She tends to draw strong reactions from people. They are occasionally positive. You can find her in a bar as you're bending down to tie your shoes, drinking Dos XX and drunk crying to Elton John. Email her: cristina@grandex.co (not .com).
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