To Be Buff or Not To Be Buff ...

I am such a procrastinator. That, and a total lazy ass.

I woke up this morning and thought that after my early meeting, I would head over to the gym. (I was on a roll about a month ago, going to the gym every day, until I got hit with some kind of virus and that put a screeching halt to my workouts. Have been resolving ever since I recovered to get back into the whole routine). Put in a call to my soul sister to see if she wanted to join me for a workout. Unfortunately, she declined with the excuse that she had some work to do, followed by her piano lesson.

Dropped the kids off at school and headed over to my meeting. When that was done, got in the car and waffled for a brief minute before turning my car towards the gym. The thought was that even though I didn't want to go, I had to force myself and my body would then crave the exercise tomorrow, like some kind of heroin addict. And ta dah! Before you knew it, I'd be hitting the gym regularly and would be a hard body in no time.

Moments after setting the wheels in motion (i.e. driving in the general direction of the gym), I realised I had to go to the washroom. Big decision. Should I go home and use the facilities (which was closer), or wait and get to the gym? Even then, I knew I was searching for excuses. Put in a call to a friend of mine to get moral support and encouragement from him. He of course, told me that I should deep six the idea of sneaking home for a catnap, and proceed directly to the gym.

Was somewhat disappointed because what I really wanted was for him to somehow psychically tap into and sanction my secret desire of going home, parking myself in front of the telly so I could watch the first season of The O.C. on DVD whilst eating Ruffle potato chips. Somehow, he just didn't get that. Of course, I should add, that he is on the same workout schedule as I am (once every couple of months, and twice during an election month), and is secretly hoping that I will become some workout crazed fiend and then drag his sorry ass to the gym with me. Clearly, he has an agenda of his own.

Once I realised this, I pulled a U-turn and headed home, all the while telling myself that I had plenty of time before having to pick up my kids from school, and that I could still work in a trip to the gym later this afternoon. I could have my catnap and work out. In fact, it might be good for me to rest up before such a difficult and rigorous round of exercise.

Well, as some of you fellow procrastinators might have guessed ... inertia rules. Once ensconced within the comfortable confines of my own home, the thought of going to a gym has all but vanished from my mind. Right now, I'm gazing longingly at my DVD player (which incidentally, has The O.C. tape in there cued up and ready to go), all the while chastising myself for even contemplating such thoughts.

I'm avoiding the mirrors, of course, because every time I pass them, they bring home the frightening reality that I am getting my mother's body.