I found out recently that my new apartment complex has a fitness room. I’ve never had that at a previous apartment before unless you count the outdoors as a large ass fitness room that you technically don’t need keys to access. In my attempt to better myself I have found myself exclusively focusing on the mental aspect of well-being and mostly neglecting the physical but for a long time I could somewhat get away with this as my job had a physical element. For the most part this is no longer so and with the fitness room being a part of the really expensive rent that I have to pay (seriously, Boston. This is ridiculous.) I figured it’s a waste not to use it. I want to try to get healthier food in my body too but as of right now I’m struggling to come up with good, cheap healthy food that doesn’t take forever to cook. I am about to work 50 hour work weeks and with the inclusion of public transport there won’t be much time to fit in cooking, working out, writing and meditation. You know, it was so much easier when I tried not to better myself….except for the being a miserable wreck part who kinda, sorta became suicidalish….BUT AT LEAST I HAD TIME ON MY HANDS! This is a good time to explain to you why it’s necessary for you to tell every single person you know about my kick ass blog because that means I can make money by typing silly words and making awkward videos and I wouldn’t have to go do thing. THIS IS ON YOU AMERICA!!!!!
Where was I? Oh, yeah, the working out thing. I have this weird anxiety when it comes to trying to better myself. When I go get a haircut, if I try a new hairstyle I am self-conscious that the hair cutting person. Barber…they’re called barbers. What the fuck am I forgetting words for? Actually, are they even called that anymore? Are they called hair stylists now? I mean, it sounds less manly if I say I go to a hair stylist but barber has this connotation of an old man giving military style cuts and the connection to that weird red, white and blue twirly barber pole thing so fuck it. I’m saying hair stylist. It’s 2017, I don’t have to be 100% masculine anymore. When I go to the hair stylist I’m afraid they’ll judge men.
The same goes for when I go to buy clothes, shoes hair gel or any other product that a person would use to make themselves look better. In the back of my mind I have the person I am buying from or someone else in the store saying, “It doesn’t matter what you do. You still look like shit. You’ll still be a loser.” When I go to work out in a public facility this same thought goes through my head. Today was no exception. I went to the fitness room with what felt like….you know how when you drink too much milk your stomach hurts? Maybe you don’t? Maybe I’m the only one who binge drinks milk. That’s fine, well when you drink too much milk your stomach hurts and that’s what my stomach felt like when I went to use the treadmill. This time, nobody else was using the place but I can’t help but be concerned that the next time someone will be in the room and it will cause me to turn away. It will be even worse if they are in better shape than I am as I will not be able to help but think they are thinking, “No, matter what you do you still look like shit.” But, the plan is to ignore that. The odds of someone actually thinking that are slim and if they are and then verbalize it they are an asshole, 90 percent of the world would agree with that and their opinion wouldn’t really matter one way or the other anyways. So fuck you hypothetical person. I can run a fucking treadmill and curl 15 pound weights because I’m way fucking weaker than I should be but I pay for this Godawful rent just like you do so, I don’t know, be nice and shit.