It’s a bit different, going to the gym. I haven’t willingly broken a sweat since I graduated from high school. I usually try to shirk my way out of any chores set for me, and I don’t exercise in any sense of the word.

I suppose it explains why I’ve put on forty pounds since I was 16. Sad really. That was the last year I was super active, with a weight training class, basketball and track. Since then, I’ve really let myself go. Geez, I sound fat, just writing that out.

I’ve been assured by many people who are not skinnier than me that I look alright, and I don’t look like I weigh as much as I do. Liars. All of them. Of course I do! 200 pounds doesn’t look good on any woman, no matter how tall they are. (Oh, wait, I didn’t want to say that…)

I realized I had put on too much weight when we went to Vegas last year for my sister’s 21st birthday. I did the “Guess Your Weight” thing because I wanted to win a Wallace and Grommet figurine. Instead, I nearly cried when he guessed 200 and was right.

But, did I do anything about it? Not really. I’ve been complaining about it for a year, hemming and hawing about joining a gym or other such nonsense. At least I didn’t put on any more weight in the interim. K and I have finally taken the plunge though, and the gym is now our favorite place.

I am pleasantly sore tonight, and I’m sure I’ll be grousing about it tomorrow , but I am glad to be actually doing something. The goal is to loose 20lbs, and fit into all the clothes in my closet. 40lbs would be nice, but then I might look slightly anorexic , because I will always be a big girl, and I’m alright with that.

So, the gym again tonight, and every night that K gets off early enough. I’ll keep you updated. Not that anyone cares.

—”Again I Go Unnoticed,” The Places You Have Come to Fear the Most: Dashboard Confessional