I feel like Gwyneth let the cat out of the bag when she visited with Oprah last week. I mean, I knew in my heart of hearts that she wasn't JUST naturally gifted with that body, but a part of me wanted to believe that she came to it by NOT working at it. Turns out, she's got to work just as hard as the rest of us. Perhaps harder, since she's scrutinized so closely and has to have her picture taken on the red carpet--most certainly with her arm raised tempting flappy arm jiggles that are the curse of all women.
I'm sitting here with a back injury, having survived a very painful weekend of recovery. I'm missing my workout, but I know I'd be crazy to try in my shape. So, instead, I'm sitting here, obsessing about Paltrow's workouts. Six days a week, in an 80 degree room, she is tortured by a pint-sized blond, about half her height, for two hours. Now, granted, her body is her job, her saleable goods, if you will. She has to do this or she'd lose out on her livelihood. Flashing back, I can still see those two blondes sweating it out and looking absolutely gorgeous, with their glistening faces stripped of all makeup.
Me, I'm not a pretty exerciser. I'm quite sure my face oddly grimaces during exercise and I have been known to try to punch the TV screen as my mistress of pain taunts me to do just 100 more hamstring curls. I don't think I will ever be beautiful while working out. It's just not in me. I don't want to go to a gym. I want my workout time to be solely for me and every time I hit our community center, I end up chatting with so many people that I don't focus on the real reason I should be there. I'm content to wear my ugly workout clothes, almost worn through yoga pants, have un-brushed teeth and bed messed hair and hit my basement "gym". (Well, it's really my laundry room and I've been known to do aerobics while adding bleach to my whites as they tumble clean. And I did once get motion sickness while watching my front load washer while doing lunges.)
Gwyneth, why did you have to share this with us? I mean, yes, I guess I can identify with you a bit more, but, a part of me still wants to hate just that little part of you. The gorgeous part that glows while doing cardio. I know you can't help it that you come from such a gorgeous gene pool. Next time, could you curse or burp or something?
I'm sitting here with a back injury, having survived a very painful weekend of recovery. I'm missing my workout, but I know I'd be crazy to try in my shape. So, instead, I'm sitting here, obsessing about Paltrow's workouts. Six days a week, in an 80 degree room, she is tortured by a pint-sized blond, about half her height, for two hours. Now, granted, her body is her job, her saleable goods, if you will. She has to do this or she'd lose out on her livelihood. Flashing back, I can still see those two blondes sweating it out and looking absolutely gorgeous, with their glistening faces stripped of all makeup.
Me, I'm not a pretty exerciser. I'm quite sure my face oddly grimaces during exercise and I have been known to try to punch the TV screen as my mistress of pain taunts me to do just 100 more hamstring curls. I don't think I will ever be beautiful while working out. It's just not in me. I don't want to go to a gym. I want my workout time to be solely for me and every time I hit our community center, I end up chatting with so many people that I don't focus on the real reason I should be there. I'm content to wear my ugly workout clothes, almost worn through yoga pants, have un-brushed teeth and bed messed hair and hit my basement "gym". (Well, it's really my laundry room and I've been known to do aerobics while adding bleach to my whites as they tumble clean. And I did once get motion sickness while watching my front load washer while doing lunges.)
Gwyneth, why did you have to share this with us? I mean, yes, I guess I can identify with you a bit more, but, a part of me still wants to hate just that little part of you. The gorgeous part that glows while doing cardio. I know you can't help it that you come from such a gorgeous gene pool. Next time, could you curse or burp or something?
Keep on, keepin' on.
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