There Ain't No Devil, It's Just God When He's Drunk

I've determined that I have bipolar body image issues. Half the time I am quite happy and comfortable in my body, the other half I feel like we are at war, and it just utterly disgusts me. After listening to me moan and berate myself for the past 4 years, my honey finally gently suggested that maybe I should try the gym. Not because I was fat or floppy, but because it would change the way I mentally think about myself.

But here's the thing with gyms: I'm petrified of them. Zonko tried numerous times to get me to go to the gym, and I even went with her on a one day try, but couldn't shake the feeling of oppression and claustrophobia. In fact, I came home and cried.

But after a birthday filled of eating cream filled cake (followed by my friend Alice's cinammon rolls), I was feeling pudgy. And since My Honey goes every Sunday, I figured that I would tag along.

Now, the gym My Honey goes to is a 20 minute walk from the flat, which to some might be considered a warm up, but to others like me, it was a bloody workout in itself. By the time we got there, I already had a raised heart rate and think film on sweat.

I braved the girls changing room all by myself, then went out into the main gym. Alone. My Honey was off doing weights. I found a cross trainer and jumped on. And started pushing buttons. Nothing. Blank screen and everything. I switched to another one. And kinda stood there pretending to undo the knots in my headphone cord while I watched and waited for someone else to ge on one of those bloody contraptions . Finally someone did and I watched how they started it up ( by moving...who'd a thunk?). And then I was off.

I did 20 minutes and burned off 150 calories, and then decieded to switch to the bike. My legs were kinda feeling jellyish, so I said I would only do 50 calories worth of cyling, but then figured I might as well do 100. But the kinda scary thing? The heart reate thingy said I had a bpm of 177. Constant. For both cross trainer and bike. 177 for a half hour solid. Is that bad? I am totally scared of my heart exploding now and shooting out of my chest onto the personal TV in front of me. But I didn't feel like I was dying or that my heart was about to explore, or that I had any breathing trouble whatsoever.

And then it was go home time. The gym closes at 5:30, and someone who isn't me likes to sleep in on the weekends until 2 or 3. Meaning by the time he's dressed and fed, it's 4 and we don't actually get out of the house until quarter past.

Apparently I didn't work out enough because I awoke this morning expecting to feel super sore. But the only thing sore was my ass from sitting on the bike- and I mean, my ass is really hurting...not the ass muscle, but whatever the hell part of it that sits on a bike seat.

So I survived. And am thinking of trying to boost it up to 2 days a week.

Oh, and including the trek back to the flat? Total of 435 calories burned, baby. That''s like a quarter of a slice of cake. Good think I ate 3 slices.

I know everyone has one of those days when they just don't want to get out of bed. But for me, its seriously become a 'why even get out of bed- there's nothing to get up for' kind of depression. And I hate it. I wish wish wish I had something to get up for. Because waking up for something denotes a purpose, and at the moment, I have no purpose!

Every fracking day is the same: I get up when I force myself to, spend all day online looking for jobs, filling out applications, and sending off CVs and cover letters. Sometimes, the only time I leave the house is when Scottie gets home and we go out to buy groceries. Sad, super sad, I know. I have been trying to make use of the clear weather to get some walking and exercise in, but lately, the Arctic winds of death are driving invisible ice shrapnel into my blood stream, while a deluge of grit and dirt make a bee line for my eyes. At the moment, being outside walking about is so not the place I want to be.

Today was one of those days that I wish I just never left the house, much less my bed. In order to be somewhat productive and do something with my life that isn't moping around the house, I've been tossing around the idea of joining a gym. My friend Zonko has been getting on my case about it and said that it would at least perk me up and give me something to do. I'm not so sure about that perking up thing, because the last time I went with her to the gym I came home and had a emotional meltdown- talk about total endorphin fail- but at least she is right about it giving me something to do.

So today I had a meeting with someone from Virgin Active to get a tour of the gym there. Nice, I suppose, and the lady gave me a free pass to use tomorrow, so we shall see if I survive that, but then came the payment details. £46 off peak. WTF?!? Being unemployed as I am, I was really in hoping for something under 40 quid. I mean, it was a nice gym and all, but soooooooooo not worth £46. Especially since I wouldn't be able to attend any of the classes I was interested in.

After hicking it back from Virgin, I then left to trek over to the opposite side of Edinburgh to the Barcelo gym found in the Carlton Hotel. They had offered to give me a free 3 day pass starting next week, and are £37 a month. They are a very small gym, but have all the bits and bobs I suppose you would need. However, they only offer 6 or 12 month contracts. Since I may not be in Edinburgh in 6 months, I don't really want to commit to that. After treking back from the Carlton, I went on line to do some more job searching and found one for a cafe in Cannongate, posted on the 23rd. It said to drop in your CV, and because I'm desperate for a job, back across the city I went. To be told they had already filled the position. In less than 3 days.

This right here is a VERY SAD PANDA.So basically, today I walked a total of (and I totally just calculted it on Google Maps) 5.5 miles today FOR NOTHING. The job was a bust, the gyms as waaaaaaay too expensive for someone unemployed, and all the while, it was FREEZING, it was WINDY and after and hour of being camped out in front of the heater, I am still cold inside.

Bllllllllllllerrrrrrrrrrrrrg.