I hate exercise. It's no secret that my hatred of exercise, coupled with my immense love of food, is the reason for The Weight, but that doesn't stop me from hating it.

I hate thinking about exercising, I hate being hot and having sweat run down the various lumps and folds of me, I hate the dilemma of what to wear (should it cover all parts of me well, better to hide that mess from sight? or should I go for something cooler and less binding that shows too much of the flesh I'm trying to reduce? and is there anything comfortable to wear when you're trying to contort your overweight body into a pretzel while simultaneously trying to raise your heart rate to a therapeutic level?), I hate not being able to keep up, hate not being motivated enough to do it on my own, and I especially hate chirpy exercise instructors.

Leslie Sansone is high on my list right now. She is petite, fit, and very motivated to annoy the hell out of me with her chirpy little voice and big toothy smile. I'm sure she's brilliant and all, but hearing her chant in time to the music "I want you to pump, pump, pump it up!" causes me to question her marketing skills.

And yet, I do it. I watch the video, I follow the steps, I listen to her tell me to 'set my core' (if I had a core there wouldn't be such a problem with the lumpiness, Leslie), I make it through 1 mile and hear her congratulate me as though I've just climbed Mt Everest while at the same time encourage me to do another fat-burning mile, I listen to her silly jokes ("and every time I kick, I kick a cat: kick, kick, kick"), and I follow her movements and try to act like a slender person would.

I do it. But then when I'm done I eat crackers and cheese or a tomato sandwich with mayo and have a Coke (and not a diet one, either). But at least I moved today.

Note To Self:

Do not eat Rosemary or Garlic flavored Triscuits when the giant cold sore on your upper lip is at it's 'crack open and HURT' stage. The flavored dust stings just a bit.

Just a wee bit.