So today I went with a couple of friends to the gym. Ohhhhh boy. To give you some perspective, the last time I jogged/ran/did any sort of real physical activity was in my high school freshman gym class six years ago. Well, I played golf competitively through high school, but walking for 5 hours with a heavy bag on your back is only good for so much. It kept my weight down but I was still a weakling.

So, yeah. Today was a little rough. I’m going to predict that I’m going to be very sad when I try to get out of bed tomorrow morning and all I can do is roll onto the floor. My 15 minute walk to lab will be fun. Of course, this is exactly why I need to exercise – because I’m hideously out of shape and I’ve gained about 10 pounds in the last year. I know I’m still within the normal weight range for my height, and I by no means look fat, but there’s this little nagging voice in my head saying “If you don’t get in shape now it’s all downhill from here.” My friend promises me he’ll make a regimen for me that will avoid my boobs. Because really, I’ll be sad if the first thing to go are my D cups instead of my…well, anything else, really.

Hmmm, now that I think of it, my weight gain is perfectly correlated with a decline in sex, and the 3 pounds I’ve lost in the last month are…well, you understand. I guess what I really need is some sexercising. I think that’s a work out regimen we can all agree on.