Do you pay to sweat?

I don't like to perspire. I don't like to sweat. I don't like to glow or any of those other cutesy terms either. I have things to do. Important things! And many of them require me to sit. Who said eating? Come here so I can slap you!
Because I am such a good friend, I couldn't say no to my pal Theresa when she called a few weeks ago and said we should join a gym. Sure, Theresa. I've been saying that for years. Is our lunch date tomorrow or next week? What? You mean we should join now? By Friday so that we can enroll for $5? I couldn't turn down the chance to save money.
We joined Planet Fitness. We both want to lose weight and be more fit. Praying about it hasn't been the answer. Apparently God expects us to DO something about it. Like move. And sweat. And pay for it.
What is it about so many of us that we don't do things on our own like diet and work out? We know what we should be doing but it takes paying someone to weigh us (Weight Watchers) or joining a gym to walk on a treadmill before we get serious. If it is free (done strictly on our own) we don't tend to stick to it.

Having a buddy helps too. I won't keep her waiting on the days she picks me up and I can't roll over for another 30 minutes of sleep when it is my turn to drive.
In my next life, I want to have a metabolism that burns up ooey gooey sweet things first and turns them into nicely defined muscles, glorious hair, fabulous nails and dazzling teeth. Paula Deen could be my personal chef and nothing would stick to my hips despite her love of butter.

Until that happens, I will be spending this life at the gym a few days per week. If you see me there, feel free to wave hello. I might not return the wave until the underarm dingle-dangle disappears but I'll give you a nod. I might even say hello if I'm not too out of breath.