Weighty issues

Everyone knows about the college freshman fifteen. Not as well publicized is the Master’s make-you-lose-twenty-pounds-because-you-are-so-stressed-out. Sadly, Chris and I have been well informed about the weight gain that will surely come with marriage. From what I have heard, no one really lets you know you are gaining weight. It becomes one of those whispers between other women who comment about how matronly you are becoming. “Gee, she must really be enjoying married life but it seems to be catching up.” Come on now. Be honest and have the decency to say to my face, “Gee Torrey, you really seem to be packing on the pounds since you got hitched.”

It isn’t that I am eating that much more. It is more about the gym factor. What is it about married life that makes the gym so unappealing? I used to love (take the word love with a grain of salt) going to the gym. It was incredible emotional therapy. Shedding the calories so I could have my chocolate wasn’t bad either. Now it seems that the gym is my personal torture chamber. Chris knows me well enough to drag me there because he knows I will beat myself up if I don’t go at least a few times during the week. Even with him there it is still horrible. I try to get excited. Favorite magazine? Check. I-Pod? Check. Cool looking water bottle with the sticker from when Chris and I went white water rafting? Check. Although I don’t think I have cleaned it for a while so it smells a bit like feet. I am fully armed with toys in hand and shoes on my feet. I get to the base of the treadmill and all I can think about is how I would rather chew my arm off than get on and start running. And yet I do. I run and I run and I try to think about how much better I will feel when I am finished.

Well, I finished. I did it. I went running. Workout for tonight? Check! And somehow all I can think about is how I would still rather chew my arm off than go running again tomorrow. Post wedding pounds? Bring them on!