Just the one, dear?
I know I need to lose some weight. I want to lose weight. I just don’t want to have to work at it. I’d rather the “exercise” be a regular part of my day, the way big city people walk everywhere. Yes, Las Vegas is a big city, but the bus service is dismal at best and besides, who wants to walk a few blocks to the bus stop and wait around for the stupid bus when it’s 110 outside? Not me, that’s for sure.
I hate the gym. HATE it. I never got what was so fun about exercise when everyone is on a treadmill, music playing in their ears, all staring straight ahead with blank looks on their faces. And they all have rock-hard, thin bodies. Except me, of course. I’m the one who’s bored silly wondering why the heck I signed up for the gym in the first place.
Bah. I don’t want to talk about this any more. I’m gonna go take my meatloaf out of the oven, let it cool and slice it up for lunch tomorrow. Then I’m gonna watch a movie and eat some fresh cherries I just bought, and try not to think about stupid exercise.
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