I've decided to give up working out.
Although, to give up something, you probably need to have actually done it in the first place.
My scattered efforts throughout my adulthood at exercising, sporadic at best, are coming to an end as of this moment. The stress of not working out is really getting to me. To alleviate the pressure, I hereby announce I am no longer going to work out. I am not going to plan on working out. Or think I might someday work out. I'm not going to try to find a new exercise program that I may like. In fact, I'm going to sink into laziness. I'm going to lean into the curves. I'm going to cherish the Pudge. I'm going to embrace lethargy. I'm going to alleviate the stress of not working out from my life. No longer will I walk around feeling guilty that I didn't work out.
Now, I will not feel guilty. I will just feel fat.
Which is not so bad, because since I'm throwing my Two-Babied-Waistline to the wind, I may as well have some ice cream while I'm rolling down the ole Hill of Attractiveness.
That's it for tonite. Time for some mint chip. I'm not even going to walk to the fridge to get it. I might get my heart rate up.