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I Hate Exercise

I got up early today to exercise.  I hated every sweat-inducing second of it.

I hated that it was 6:15.  I hated that I was doing jumping jacks with thick-framed glasses because it was only 6:15 and I didn't want to put my contacts in yet and I'm too blind to see the tv without corrective lenses.  I hated that I couldn't find my Jillian Michael's dvd so I had to scroll through On-Demand to download something.  I hated that the work out ended up being only 10 minutes long even though it felt like 30, so I had to find the 20-min. Pilates disc.  Then I remembered that I hate some of the Pilates moves, so I didn't do them in protest.  You know, to prove a point to that woman on the tv. 

But here I am nearing the end of the day (7:30), both boys in bed, and I'm not drop-dead exhausted like I usually am at this time.  I have energy.  And this makes me hate exercise even more now.  It's taunting me with its "have energy all day" baloney... with facts like "most anxiety patients do just as well with regular exercise as they do with medication" and "you will lose weight."  

Stupid exercise.  Here's to another bright and early start tomorrow!

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