Why do Aerobics Instructors Hate Me?

I have spent the last 10 years trying to avoid exercise at all costs. Aside from my flabby gut and muffin top, I have enjoyed it. I like eating, and I especially enjoy eating junk. But lately my pants have been complaining a wee bit. It seems I am stressing them out and asking just a little too much of them.

So I bought a gym membership.

Because I'm not one of those women who can discipline herself enough to stand in her living room, with her family all around, doing lunges to a video. I will always, ALWAYS find something better to do at home, if left with the time and opportunity to do so. After all, the couch is just right there. And the tv is already on. Why not catch up on all those shows I have saved on the DVR? And running? Don't get me started on running. I. Hate. It. The only way you can get me to run is to sneak up on me with some sort of weapon and chase me. I have never understood the point of a marathon, nor the enjoyment one would get out of it. Running, just for the purpose of running? Ick. And Hell No.

So I've been going to the gym for the past two weeks. I force myself to do it since I already paid for the membership. And I force myself to take classes, because I know I am lazy and if left on my own to work on a machine, I will not push myself. So I take the classes because I know the instructor will push me. But man, do they have to be so sadistic? These tiny, compact little women are like the Devil's minions. They tell me, "you can do 10 MORE push-ups and 30 MORE lunges. You can do it! DO IT! PUSH!" Really? Have you seen my ass? You really think I can do all that already? In addition to the weights and the bouncing and the kicking you've already had me do? I just started! Let me pace myself a bit and work up to all that.

WHY DO YOU HAVE TO BE SO HATEFUL, LITTLE MISS AEROBICS INSTRUCTOR?

It's not like I want to have Madonna arms.

Or get all beefy, like this guy.

I'm really just doing it so I don't have to buy bigger pants. So I can keep eating my Schwan's ice cream and popsicles. It's been two weeks, and my muscles have been sore, and I have been exhausted. And you know what?

I've GAINED two pounds.

My friend says it's muscle, which is what I've been consoling myself with. But still, it's not like my pants are fitting looser or anything. (sigh) I'm going back tomorrow, and I bet those tight little biznatches laugh maniacally and wring their hands together every time they see me walk in the door. Well, you just wait, because give me some time and I'm gonna kick Pilates' ass. Believe it.