When you hate working out but you want a nice butt

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I don’t enjoy working out.

I mean, I borderline hate it. The Kayla Itsines challenge and the Pinterest ‘these are the only four exercises you’ll ever need’ posts – I get they’re effective and I get they probably work wonders for a fuck ton of people. But it’s not my style. The idea of getting down on my living room floor for 20 min to pump out these exercises genuinely (and irrationally) annoys me.

I don’t enjoy working out

However, all I want in life is to have a nice butt – and, unfortunately, working out is the only thing I’ve found that accomplishes this.

I had an active childhood, playing on multiple sports teams & running like mad through the woods our country home was conveniently located within. My adolescence was similar (although my forest runs were replaced with city blocks). I never really thought about staying active because it just kind of happened, and  I never really felt the need to try. I was lucky.

It wasn’t until I was in my early twenties that I recognized fitness as something I wanted to actively (pun intended) and deliberately integrate into my daily lifestyle. Now a working WOMAN with a 9-5 and a streetcar commute, I felt aware of how INactive my life had become. So, I joined a gym – one of those gyms where the towels were almost as beautiful as the women who went there. I wasn’t sure if I quite fit in, with my H&M leggings & my glasses awkwardly slipping down my face during spin class, but I powered through because I liked the lifestyle. It was nothing like getting down on my living room floor to pump out the only four exercises I’d ever need. This was actually enjoyable; liberating.

I liked walking into a social space with other humans and being part of this big, workout culture. I got into a routine. I liked my routine. I liked my mitful of workout buddies. And I recognized how much happier and better I felt about life overall now that I had physical activity a part of my every day.

It was at this gym where the towels were just as beautiful as the women that I met Al – the trainer who’s classes I would begin to religiously attend every Wed, Fri & Sat morning. His classes were hard, and made me feel SO good about myself after the fact.

There was one Saturday class in particular where I, having locked my purse in a locker in the changeroom, proceeded to put the key in my sports bra for safe-keeping and joined the class.

It was during a set of jumping lunges that the key bounced out of my shirt. Embarrassed, I picked it up, put it back, and continued jumping and huffing and puffing.

5 minutes later during set #2 it happened again. Not wanting to be that lameo girl who kept awkwardly fumbling her body around to pick up a key, I cooly kicked it out of the way so my hawt workout wouldn’t be interrupted. Unfortunately, I managed to kick it into a (and let’s be honest, probably the only) mysterious hole between the floor and wall.

I found myself crouched over after class desperately trying to remove my key from the wall with a bobby pin. It wasn’t possible, so I sadly watched as they got out the lock cutters and cut me free from the change room.

It was in that moment – while they cut my lock open and I sat alone watching on the bench – that I knew I would never be like those cool women in their tye-dye leggings who looked just as beautiful as the towels. I was going to try, but I wasn’t going to do it.

Instead, I was going to be the person who kicked her key into a hold in the wall.

But despite this, I continued getting up at 9(30) on Saturdays to make it to Al’s 10am class because I knew it was worth it.

And THEN I went to New Zealand. I shook up the routine that had served me well for almost 2 years.

After multiple countries and campervans and misplaced credit cards, I came home. Broke, busy and trying to get back into the swing of real life, the last thing on my list was joining a gym – but I had no idea at the time how much of an impact this decision was going to make. I had no idea that not exercising was going to take such a toll on my emotional state. Let’s put it this way – I felt like I was living in a constant state of kicking keys into holes in the wall. I felt so insanely blah

And then Al reached out with an offer to train with him,  

I remembered that lifestyle that had served me well for almost 2 years; how happy and good I felt about myself post-cardio. I remembered Al’s workouts being the kind that made you realize how little you had pushed yourself every other time you went to the gym. I remembered my legs shaking as I walked out of the gym.

After my first session with him just last week, it felt exactly as it had before. I couldn’t believe how sore my ass was. I could barely bend over to pick up the subway token I had dropped and had to like, mentally prepare to climb the stairs into the GO station.

My muscles were aching and I FELT SO F*CKING GREAT ABOUT IT.

I still don’t enjoy working out. I borderline hate it.  But for the sake of my overall happiness and, more importantly, for the sake of my butt, I’m finding ways to make working out ‘work out’ (see what I did there?) And part of that is finding people like Al to help me find a routine that I not only don’t hate, but feel really fucking good about. 

Check him out here! 

2 Comments

2 Comments

  1. E.T. says:

    You have a very nice butt, but I am so happy that working out makes
    you feel better, AND makes you put an * in that word!

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