The gym is not my natural habitat. Here is what tends to run through my brain when I attempt to go.

-Alright, I’m PUMPED, let’s DO THIS THING. Level 6 cardio on the elliptical? BRING IT.

-…Level 3 on the elliptical, bring it…

-Uhh let’s just bring the incline down a bit too… there… BRING. IT.

-Okay, Lady on the Stairmaster, I’m pretty sure those towels are for wiping down the machines after use and not for wiping your face but… I guess if you don’t mind sweaty germ residue on your face that’s great too.

-Why do I feel like an Italian sausage in my work out clothes? What is the point of skin-tight torture gear for working out? Is it to encourage you to lose weight so that you’re not subjected to inspecting every bulge poking out of your sides when they start jiggling as you run…?

-I’m not Italian, I should choose a different sausage. Polish? No, not really Polish either. Scandinavian sausage? Eh, they don’t have sausage, they mostly just have fish. French? Nope. Can I feel like a French fry instead of a sausage?

-Choose a different sausage. Heh.

-Damnit now I want French fries.

-Has anyone noticed that I wear the same gym outfit every time? Why are gym clothes $20 per piece anyway? WHY IS GETTING IN SHAPE SO EXPENSIVE? Don’t even get me started on the sneaker expense. I don’t CARE if these are not running shoes, running shoes are $100 and I got these for $20 at MARSHALL’S.

-…nobody knows I wear the same gym clothes because I am not here often enough. Shhh.

-Dear Girl in Front of Me on the Highest Elliptical Setting Acting Like It Ain’t No Thang–I hate you. I want your butt, but I hate you. You are also here every time I am here and I think it might be a sign sent to enrage me into fitness. It only kind of works.

-What am I going to have for dinner? Steak? Yeah. Steak. Steak sounds good.

-Fries. Friiiiiies. Frites. Frites with mayo? God damnit I wish.

-Workout time goes by a lot faster when you can watch Parks and Rec on your iphone…

-Friggin gym Wi-Fi… LET ME WATCH MY PARKS AND REC…

-Sure. I’ll settle for Lady Gaga spotify instead. Wi-fi can handle that but not NBC, urghgh.

-I’M ON THE RIGHT TRACK BABY I WAS BOOORN THIS WAAAAY…. Hah. Born this way, plus the 15 pounds I’ve gained since October? This song is too depressing for gym time. Skip.

-Someday I’ll be as confident as the old ladies that walk the length of the locker room naked to go to the showers. Someday.

-Rap about bitches or something. Not the girl-power upbeat gym soundtrack I was going for. Skip.

-Question: If my boyfriend insists I am beauuuuutiful, do I really need the gym?

-Answer: Yes, you do. Stop making excuses.

-Why are these magazines wrinkly? Is it from sweat? That’s gross. Really gross. I guess I’m not as interested in learning what Kim Kardashian was doing in December badly enough to continue to leaf through this sweat-saturated periodical.

-Taylor Swift on my Lady Gaga station? Lame. Skip.

-…I didn’t really skip it. I’m sorry. WEEE ARE NEVAR NEVAR NEVAR, GETTING BACK 2GETHARRRR…

-Am I done yet? Can I have fries?

-I wish there was a television in here.

-No, I wish I could afford the gym with the televisions.

-Can the girl next to me smell me? Am I even smelling me? Or am I smelling that guy? How much deodorant did I put on this morning?

-Who run the world? GIRLS. WHO RUN THE WORLD? GIRLS! Oh Beyonce, I love you, but the grammar of this song hurts my face. Skip.

-Wow I am hungry. Working out makes you hungry. But working out + diet = skinny. Skinnier. Something. This is a cruel process.

-Question: Do I trust my workout app to tell me how many calories I just burned, or the machine itself?

-Answer: Whichever is higher.

-I am out of skips on Spotify. I am at the mercy of the shuffle. Help me.

-I wish Zumba was at more convenient times to my schedule. Hopping around like a fool to Latin music tricks my mind into thinking I’m just spazzing out and therefore NOT exercising… and it seems to go by a lot quicker.

-Nope, elliptical it is.

-Ten minutes. The longest minutes. Count down, you little timer, count down.

-YESS I AM FINALLY DO–Friggin Cool Down? What? The timer just added five minutes for a “cool down” I THOUGHT I WAS DONE. THIS IS NOT COOL, COOL DOWN.

-Cool down in my mind means an icy shower because I am a sweat monster right now. THAT is a cool down, not FIVE MORE MINUTES OF MOVING.

-FINALLY. FRIES. STEAK FRITES. LET ME AT ‘EM!!!

-….nope, time for rehearsal. Damnit.