I wish I was born skinny so I didn't have to work out

So, confession: I dislike working out - immensely. I realized (more like, I remembered) this a few nights ago as I was lying in a puddle of my own sweat, giving myself a mental high-five because I couldn't physically move, after a particularly brutal Crossfit worko- I mean WOD. 

I'm not even good at it. Seriously, my Fran time is just under 8 minutes and while I feel like I'm thrusting an entire planet and doing perfect kipping pull-ups 21-15-9 times like a boss, what I'm actually doing is thrusting a 35 lb bar and using the yellow band on the pull-up bar (which is still hard, because I have to flail my legs to pull my fat ass up with my skinny arms so my chin makes it over the bar). And at the end of that WOD, I'm still crawling to my water bottle, leaving a wet trail of sweat, tears and pride behind me.

Not to mention my lack of grace when I'm doing Grace. 

Note that I opened with the fact that I participate in Crossfit. I make sure everyone knows I Crossfit and it kicks my ass and I do it for no other reason than the chance I’ll be in a situation where I would be required to wrestle a sabretooth cat – and win.

There is no reason for someone like me (a non-athletic person) to do Crossfit 6-7 days a week, except to find ways in which to nonchalantly assert the details of my WOD in almost every conversation and FB status update or IG photo op as if I was an 'athlete,' or to blog about it. Or to impress my kid.

Because I truly think I was meant to be a lazy person. I'd be so good at it, I just know. But, I digress. 

You might be wondering why, if I dislike working out so much, do I keep doing it? Well, maybe you’re not, but I’ll tell ya - and it has nothing to do with Crossfit and everything to do with general physical activity that I deem unnecessary. Like running. And lifting.

For starters, I dislike being out of shape more than I dislike working out. My body dysmorphic disorder prevents me from being content with my curves which are never under any kind of control. Curves are what I call my fat to make me feel better about filling or spilling out of my clothing. Plus, I can’t afford a new wardrobe and my clothes were getting smaller (read: I was getting bigger).

I’m also getting older and my metabolism hasn't worked right since puberty and the Freshman Fifty (in high school) saw my first set of angry, red stretch marks screaming across my calves, thighs and butt in protest of the fuller figure I was developing through the ingestion of an insane amount of food. I thought aliens were taking over my body, but I was just getting fat. 

And at my height, being more than a little curvy makes me look like a garden gnome in a pair of skinny jeans. Again, I digress.

I've dabbled in fitness since my early 30s and I know hard work and dedication can transform a body along with good eating habits, and I have just enough lack of motivation to not commit. My weight yo-yos with my sporadic interest and eventual disinterest followed by laziness with working out and that affects metabolism negatively. 

I was always looking for shortcuts because I didn't want to do the work - like pills, fads and eating disorders - which worked! However, the side effects that accompanied the rapid weight loss – thinning hair, loss of skin tone, bone density and muscle mass, growing hair in odd places – just weren't worth the dedication. 

What’s the point of being thin if you don’t look healthy or feel happy and could possibly die at some point? It’s counterproductive.

You can’t peacock in a coffin.

It wasn't until a few years ago, when my ex deployed, that I decided to make a real commitment to the on-again off-again relationship I had with fitness and give it the ‘old college try.’ I wanted to ‘wow’ him with a hard body upon his return.

Okay, so what had REALLY happened was, I saw cellulite had finally, in my mid-late 30s, visibly manifested itself on my thighs and I freaked the f*** out. 

Hey, a reason is a reason, right? 

As it turned out, I needn't have tried so hard to impress the ex by building a hard body. He likes thick chicks. And by thick, I mean according to his Google searches, the minimum ass size was 47" around. 

I blogged that experience, as well. That was back when I thought I liked working out. But I didn't. I was mistaken. I hoped I could lie to motivate myself because working out to get in shape is HARD work. 

Now I hear the big thing is to make a lifestyle change, which to me sounds like putting myself on a diet and exercise plan for life – and that there is no room for Bojangles Cajun fries for as many times as I would want to eat a medium sized order of them.

Then what the hell am I working out for? A f***ing Paleo muffin?!

Just the thought of having to workout for the rest of my life is depressing, and every night I pray that if I get a chance to come back and do this again, I’ll come back as a naturally skinny bitch so I don’t have to worry about any of this business. Maybe I’ll have boobs, too.

I guess the main reason I go back everyday is that Crossfit works for me: it’s the most intense, total body workout I can do in the shortest amount of time per day – it’s just an hour. Everyone has an hour. And in that hour, as I'm doing any number of rounds or rounds possible in the shortest time I can, I'm calculating all the things I’d rather be doing, like laundry, cleaning and arranging the fridge magnets according to the Feng Shui method of balancing the energies around me.

Because as much as I complain that I dislike working out, I can now fit into my clothes again and things on my body are toned and tight where they should be (translation, I don’t have bingo wings, jelly butt or mom boobs). 

Do I need to Crossfit? No. But I'm a results oriented person and the program works. Plus, I can't pretend I'm an "elite athlete" if I'm on the elliptical for an hour a day (as if). When I think about quitting, which usually crosses my mind about every ten seconds during a WOD,  I try to remember what I used to look like naked or the first time my kid put on my size 7 short-shorts and they were still loose - even though I couldn't pull them over my thighs and it wasn't because they were muscular.

So, NO, I don't like working out. But I dislike being out of shape more.

Disclaimer: This is in no way, shape or form against Crossfit nor is it an endorsement for Crossfit. Crossfit is for anyone who wants to do it and challenge themselves or just blog and complain about how much they love and hate it at the same time. As always, you should consult a physician or professional before beginning any workout program.