last night at a xmas party the conversation turned to the issue of working out. the thing is: i don't do sports. period.
i am well aware that i should. i often contemplate the possibility of joining a gym, but remember all too well my last membership: while the monthly fee inconspicuously slipped off my account and my lazy tush hardly ever made it to the place of action, i ended my contract after counting that every single time i actually worked out cost me 120€. and that ain't cool.
the problem is not that i have not found the right type of exercise. i actually enjoy all kinds of solitary sports and i've pretty much tried everything, as well. i just cannot stick to a routine.
i wish it was a s simple as just getting off the couch and walking to the gym. i am a master of self-delusion and can argue myself out of every single decision i make. the more ironclad the promise, the more elaborate my sneaky way out of it. i know myself well and, therefore, any sort of contract-making with myself is futile.
finding motivation for exercise is where i fall. i know a workout provides endorphins and i'd feel more energetic overall. somehow the knowledge doesn't push me since i am pretty happy in my slothful state. i wish i was more vain when it comes to appearance, but seeing hideous pictures only shock me for a second. i know my body is far from perfect, but it's generally ok. hence, i conceal my shortcomings rather than try to fix them – if i was more prone to gaining weight i'd probably stroll around happily in a black, interestingly folded muumuu.
a while ago a friend recommended the gym he goes to and i half-promised to look into joining. the topic has since been raised and dropped so many times that last night i could see the look in his eyes close on desperation, as if "yeah, i know where this conversation will end... she'll say yeah, i should and will look into it and we'll be having the same conversation next month." when you realize your procrastination sounds old and bores your friends, it is definitely time to do something.
thus, we smacked the cat on the table (got to love finnish idioms) and explicitly figured out a plan to motivate me. the perfect idea started in the clever mind of another sports challenged friend: we need a price that's a significant indulgence we have a hard time convincing ourselves entitled to otherwise. moreover, her suggestion of the holy grail hit close to home: a classic chanel flap bag.
the plan was conjured (and recorded) and is as follows.
from january 2010 we both join the gym and must attend at least twice a week. only exceptions accepted are illness and travel. our mutual friend is the official observer and we must inform him after every single visit. he will record our visits in a google-calendar visible to our support teams.
after six months we both are allowed to buy ourselves a chanel flap bag of our choice. the official observer will be given a bottle of champagne whether or not we succeed. there will be a formal party to welcome the two chanels in our families and plenty of toasting. with firm arms.
since rational thinking is not motivating enough, public pressure and a shiny, outrageously expensive new bag might just about do it. that's the kind of airhead i am. i just hope i do not win the lottery before summer because knowing me i'll just buy myself out of this contract as well...
wish me luck!