Why I Will Never Be Fit

If you remember, I made a really motivated post in the beginning of this year about how I was going to watch what I eat and stay in shape and try to exercise, etc. As you can probably guess, I gave up on that whole farce by about January 13th because fuck the police. Since then, I have eaten whatever I want and have done absolutely no physical exercise, and while I feel like crap, my tummy and I are on really good terms.

So a few days ago, I was enjoying a plate of savory, delicious bacon in my bed, watching "Fat Chef".  This had become somewhat of a habit over the past few months. Not that it was always bacon. Sometimes, it was ice cream, or cheese.
After the episode was over,I decided that I needed to get off my ass and start taking care of myself, really get myself in gear. "Yeah, I'm going to go outside! And I'm going to run! And it's going to be awesome!"
So I put on a pair of leggings, my pajama T-shirt, and my sneakers that I haven't worn since, like, the 8th grade, ready to take on the streets of North Philly. As I was walking towards the door, I realized how ridiculous I looked, let alone felt. "What am I doing? I don't know how to do this." I stood with my hand on the door knob, suddenly overcome with paralyzing fear.
"People are going to see me." I thought.
"Well of course people are going to see you," I thought back to myself. "You're going outside, and other people who have eyes go outside too."
"But, what if I look dumb?"
"Well there is a 100% chance that you are going to look dumb, and a 100% chance that people are going to see you looking dumb."
"No, I don't want to go. People are going to see me running and be like 'That bitch ain't foolin no body, she's wearing her pjs and her sneakers from 8th grade and she looks mad silly. I bet she doesn't even make it once around the block. Dumb bitch. Lol, let's go to Qdoba and judge her some more.'"
"Just go outside, do it for the booty."
"Well, the booty does need some work..."

After arguing with myself for a few more minutes I decided to do it for the booty, and went down stairs. I pushed through the gate and walked out onto the street and stopped.
"Now what?" I thought. Do I just start running?
"No, that's too obvious, just start walking."
So I walked down a street parallel to Broad St, pretending like I was warming up, or just walking to a friends apartment, if I had friends. I headed down a back road with hardly any people on it and stopped at a corner.
"Now what?"
Then, for some reason, I bent down to tie my shoe, which was already perfectly tied. Maybe I thought that people who saw me would look at me and be like "Oh, she definitely knows what she's doing. She knows you need to tie your shoes before you can run. Safety first, I get that."

After I pretended I was tying my shoe for about 30 seconds, I thought "fuck it", stood up, and just started running. At first, I was like "Ok, this isn't so bad, I can just go slowly and take it easy and it won't be a problem at all!"
Then I turned onto Broad Street, and immediately encountered the most people I had ever seen on that street in my life. I almost turned around, but I didn't want everyone to realize that I was a noob, so I kept going. As I ran up towards Qdoba, I swear to god I heard a group of guys laugh at me and say "I bet those are her pjs!" My worst fears were being realized. It was at this point that I also started to remember exactly why I didn't run. The air coming into my throat felt like fire, and my legs were getting wobbly, and I was already seeing spots. It felt like my brain was going to melt out of my ears and my lungs were going to drop out of my butt. I turned to circle around the Qdoba and cut through the parking lot so that no one could see me, and so I could stop running before I killed myself.
Little did I know, there was a hot guy club meeting in the parking lot that day, and they all looked up when I came huffing and puffing around the corner. I had no choice but to keep running like it was no big deal. I didn't want them to know what a loser I was. So I ran through the longest parking lot on the face of the planet and decided that I really had to stop before I went into cardiac arrest. So in a stroke of genius, I came up to a stop sign and put my hand up to hit it as I ran by, like I was tapping out.
"Brilliant!" I thought. "Now everyone will think I do this all the time. Noobs don't have check points, only pros, which is what I am, obviously..."

Now that I was walking and on an empty street heading back to my apartment, I was able to assess exactly how out of shape I was. I was wheezing and seeing spots, and I had only gone about 1 square block. I was afraid that I was going to drop dead before I even made it back to my street.

I managed to drag myself into my apartment and went straight for the toilet, absolutely positive that I was going to lose it. I felt so terrible and so hot, I spent a good half hour laying naked in my bathtub trying to catch my breath. I was pathetic.

After I finally was able to pull myself back together, I slumped back out into my apartment, feeling terrible and tired. The pan that I had cooked the bacon in was still sitting on the stove, infecting the air with its putrid salty meat smell. I almost threw up right in the kitchen. After washing the dishes and spraying everything with Bath and Body works crap, I walked over to my bed and let myself fall onto the mattress.
After a few minutes, I was starting to feel a lot better. "You know what?" I thought "This isn't so bad. If I do a little bit like this every day, I'll get better and better. Eventually, I won't feel like dying and I'll be able to run further. I probably won't even look like an idiot after a while!"
I couldn't deny that my body did feel better, like it really had to work to stay alive, instead of just sucking up carbs and metabolizing proteins, or whatever it is that bodies do.
Just as I rolled over to sit up, a piece of bacon came tumbling down towards my face. I picked it up. It was perfectly cooked, and still warm, and it smelled beautiful. It felt like I was holding the fate of my future in my hand; a crispy delicious piece of fate...

So I ate it.
And I haven't gone for a run since.