Well, Drat.

Last Week: 250.0 lb
This Week: 250.2 lb
Gain: 0.2 lb

And, again: well, drat.

I'm frustrated. Disappointed. SO FLICKING OVER THE 250s!

I really thought I'd see the 240s today, what with finally getting my butt on the treadmill and such. What the eff, man?! I mean, yes, I know it's only 0.2 lb, and I know it's not that big of a deal in the long run, but DUDE. I wanted a loss. I wanted OUT of the 250s forever. So bummed.

Also, in the "wow, I didn't plan that well, did I?" column, I decided to take today as a rest day, thinking I would get back in the fitness center on Thursday and Friday. I didn't pack clothes, shoes or lunch today. And then I got to work, looked at my calendar, and realized that I've got training videotaping literally ALL day both Thursday and Friday. No working out for me, since I have to do it on my lunch break. UGH.

I know that I've mentioned (a zillion times now) that we have a fitness center about 100 feet away from my desk, and that I have been super good at ignoring it for the past year. Did I ever mention that we also have a free personal trainer who does fitness classes several times a week? Yes, insert cone of shame here. Not only did I ignore the equipment, but I've spent the last year dodging an incredibly perky (but nice) lady who insists on stopping me to "chat" about coming to her classes. She's nice and all, but she's totally like one of those foreign guys who works at the weird lotion kiosks in the mall - you know who I'm talking about? The guys that hound you as you walk by and try to get you to stop so they can put weird products on your hair and nails so you will buy it? That's her, only not foreign, and "selling" fitness classes instead of lotions.

She came into the fitness center yesterday while I was doing my half 5k, and after I finished, she chatted me up again about her classes and how they could help me with my 5k training and blah, blah, blah. I'm sorry, lady, but I really don't want to do "wind sprints", whatever those are, and ab workouts and bozu or beezu or bagoo, or whatever the hell that half-ball balance thingy is.

I just want to get on the treadmill with Pandora's Cardio Dance station, and ignore the fact that at any minute any one of my coworkers could walk by the glass doors and see me in all my sweaty, jiggly glory. Maybe one day doing those things with a group of co-workers will sound fun, but today is NOT that day.

And also, for the past two days, I've had company while working out. In the form of a twenty-something, very fit, gentleman who hops on the treadmill and literally runs for an hour, then gets off and does strength training. All the while in very inappropriate shorts. Bright orange, and seriously, did you shop in the wrong department? Because I'm pretty sure if they ride up any higher in the middle, your junk is going to catch a breeze. It is so hard not to stare. One, because I'm in awe of the fact that he jumps on the treadmill and straight runs for so freaking long, and two, because I just can't see how shorts that short can be comfortable. Especially for a man.

Adventures of the fat lady in the fitness center...