Great expectations were put upon this "beast" when he came to live here. But alas, he couldn't live up to them. So come this month both hubby and I have been in a mood to get rid of "stuff". The overwhelming, unused, useless cluttery stuff that is just "there". And the beast fell under this category.
So why is my stomach in a knot? Why do I have these panicky feelings of seeing that thing go out the door? Even the thought of the cash in hand is not making me feel better. Others would scoff at such crazy feelings. Has the beast become such a part of the decor that I've become attached? Have I developed an affectionate feeling of familiarity as I trip over it's feet one more time? Or is it because it is a glaring symbol to the buyer that I was a get in shape failure, that my extra poundage is still hanging on to my back side? That my great plans of continueing on with an exercise routine outside of the gym have crumbled in heap at the feet of my scale? Sigh.
So, the treadmill went out the door last week as did the Bow Flex. And what of the beast? It went too. It went nicely into the corner of the tv room downstairs. Yes, it still resides here. I can no longer ignore him. Now that it's two buddies of torture are gone there is much more room for him and he is much comfier. I have talked myself into getting on it for short bursts throughout the day. 'Cause a few short bursts are better than doing nothin' at all. Right? RIGHT?! Sigh. I'll let you know how this great plan goes or if the beast is yet to see it's eviction in the coming months. Who invented exercise anyway?