Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Me vs. well, Me.

Sometimes, when I don’t want to do things….like run or workout, I create voices in my head. New ones. Not the ones that are usually there rambling about and telling me to do things like cut my own bangs because they will totally come out even, or the one that tells me that horizontal stripes won’t make my ass look fat. This is the Fat Me. The one that used to sit on the couch watching re-runs of America’s Next Top Model while devouring a pint of Ben and Jerry’s Chubby Hubby ice cream. She motivates me through the things I don’t want to do, until I’ve done them and can shut her up with a cookie or a sugar free chocolate. This is how today’s conversation went.

Me: I don’t want to run today

Fat Me: Do you have something better planned?

Me: No, I’m just tired and my hair hurts.

Fat Me: Your what…seriously? Is that even a thing?

Me: I did yoga yesterday.

Fat Me: Gold star for you fatty. Who cares? Get on the damn treadmill.

Me: My knee hurts.

Fat Me: It’s going to hurt more if you don’t keep running. Because you will get fat. And your knees don’t like to carry around your fat. Remember?

Me: I worked all day.

Fat Me: You sat at desk and pushed papers. Get on the treadmill.

Me: I’m used to running outside now. I don’t want to confuse my body with a treadmill again.

Fat Me: Your body will adjust. Get on the treadmill.

Me: But, I’m ate a Fiber One bar today, and a lot of fruit and I am super gassy.

Fat Me: Running will push it out and that has to shed a few ounces right? Just run and fart. Maybe the excess air will propel you forward and lighten your load.

Me: I’m afraid to fart.

Fat Me: Why is that?

Me: Because they are untrustworthy today. What if I go to release a squeaker and I drop a dirty bomb?

Fat Me: I have no words.

Me: See, I should wait until my ass isn’t dropping stank.

Fat Me: Just get on the fucking treadmill. Two miles won’t kill you. Surely, you can manage a couple of miles.

Me: Fine, I will try.

Half a mile into my run……

I’m so tired.

Fat Me: Tough shit. Run.

Me: I did a new yoga DVD yesterday. Bob Harper’s Yoga for Warriors. You know, the guy from The Biggest Loser? Only this video wasn’t done with fatties. It was skinny people with abs and a metabolism. And it didn’t hurt too much when I did it, but today everything from my toenails to my hair follicles are throbbing with pain.

Fat Me: Well, while you were just trying to justify your pain you just ran another quarter mile. Keep talking.

Me: I really need to fold laundry. And people are coming to look at the house tomorrow so I need to mop the floors. And oh shit, I have to remember to make my bed. I hate making my bed. I need a pedicure too. I know that has nothing to do with making my bed, but I just remembered that while I was hanging out in downward dog yesterday my toes looked like I have been Fred Flintstone-ing my way to work for the last 20 years. And I have to pay the cable. Should I go grocery shopping tomorrow or wait till…..hey, why is there a wrapper under that chair. I’m gonna kill these kids with their candy stealing, wrapper dropping asses. Oooh look, another .5 mile. Sweet!

Fat Me: See how that works. When you stop bitching like a little girl and think of other things, you end up halfway done with your run.

Me: Maybe today, just today, I could just do a mile. I will make up for it Friday.

Fat Me: No you won’t. You suck at running and there is no way you can add another mile onto Fridays run.

Me: I could do it tomorrow.

Fat Me: Or, you could shut the fuck up and just do it now.

Me: My lungs are burning.

Fat Me: That just means you’re alive. Keep running.

Me: I have sweat in my eyes.

Fat Me: Blink it out. Isn’t all the damn crying you’re doing rinsing it out anyway?

Me: Hey, look….I’m at 1.75 miles. Maybe I could just walk the rest.

Fat Me: Seriously, you came this far and you can’t push a couple more minutes?

Me: *Sigh*

Fat Me: Sigh all you want sissy girl, but don’t stop running.

Me: (Asshole)

Fat Me: What was that?


Fat Me: That’s what I thought.


Fat Me: Good job, fat ass. See you Friday.

And it was at this moment that I looked down to take stock of what I had just done.

325 calories burned

2.1 miles ran

4235 steps

3.5 incline


Who the hell touched the GODDAMNED INCLINE???? I don’t run on an incline on the treadmill………

Damn candy stealing, wrapper dropping, incline increasing, treadmill violating kids.


  1. Oh that was a good one! damn kids! I burnt my toast black as hell the other day because on of them had put the dial on max!

  2. I have the perfect solution. I LOVE burnt toast so you send your kids here and I will send my kids there. If you don't have a treadmill, they are proficient in breaking many other household items!

  3. Piggy snorting with laughter at your inner dialogue here...