A Gym With No Point

In the experience of Amy there is one reason and one reason alone for going to the gym: to get skinny.

You know the drill, exercise a lot for a few weeks, get up the nerve to get on the scale, find that you've lost way less weight than you thought you had but that you had lost a little. So you keep going and eventually your clothes start to get a little baggier and you start to look in the mirror and see that you are starting to look increasingly awesome.

This is how the world works. Right?

But no. Not when you're growing a human. When you're growing a human everything happens the opposite of how you would expect it should.

This gym business is exactly what I'm talking about. I go at least four or five times a week. I work out for a least 45 minutes. I come home. I avoid the scale at all costs because, let's be honest, the expanding stomach ... and more... can't bode well in that department. And the clothes aren't fitting better ...

So what am I doing? I see no point to continuing the misery, except, well, I really am that bored.

Heh.