I’m expending massive amounts of it several times a week. I do it because I claim I want more. In fact, I have heard myself tell people (and I truly do mean it) that the number one goal I have for my exercise is that it will give me energy (otherwise known as “oomph”). I have said, and yes it is true, that even if I don’t lose an ounce, as long as I end up with more energy, I’ll be satisfied.
Look, do I want the poundage gone? Oh, yeah. I want it outta here. Kaput even. Sayonara. Hasta la bye-bye. However it’s true. If I had to take a choice between skinny and lifeless or fat with energy, I’d be content with the fat.
However, I have to admit that it does seem a little backward the way I am going about it. I get up. I eat. I eat so I can exercise. If I don’t eat, I might pass out on the floor. So, I eat. Then I go expend energy. TONS of it. I lift weights, squat like I’m giving birth in a field, and walk like there’s no tomorrow on a treadmill. Talk about a “rat race.” Sheesh. I sweat until my body is dripping. It’s disgusting. Truly it is. I POUR (literally as you can see but thankfully the Internet does not let you smell) energy out of me in order to do what? What was that again?? GET ENERGY?
It’s madness. I must be insane. That’s like saying I need to eat to lose weight. Wait. I do lose weight when I eat. Oh, well, most people don’t. So there. It’s like saying I need to spend money to have money. Yeah, that fits my analogy better. Ignore the food thing.
However, every “expert” (self-appointed and universally accepted ones) will tell me that the best way to get energy is to wear myself out with this exercise thing. So, I’m doing it. I don’t know, maybe it’s like “priming a pump.” Gotta pour water in before you can get any out. Maybe somehow all that energy I’m expending zings about the room and then latches onto my enzymes somewhere and someday will come back to life after a long hibernation.
Yeah. I’ll just hold onto that hope. Otherwise, I might just cry.