I live my life out of a suit case. 10 weeks at a time in different cities and then off again. I don’t have a home. My parents turned my room into a sowing ”atelier”/storage unit and I don’t own anything else than my outfits and my computer. When I go abroad I live in rooms that are small and disgusting, where I leave the shower feeling dirtier than when I entered. In London I considered putting my last money on a gym card only to be able to clean myself in a shower that wasn’t covered in mold. I didn’t though, because that would mean I'd have to actually work out if I didn’t want people to look at me weird for walking in, shower, and then leave again. And I spend so much time working/drinking beer/sleeping that I don’t have the time to really work out. I always tell myself that I could just go out for a run for 20 minutes and be over with it. But this is a problem for me, because I hate running. Also, I don't think I can run for 20 minutes straight. In order for me to move for longer than 10 minutes it needs to be something that isn’t repetitive or boring. And I find almost everything boring, besides dancing. I danced from the age of 5 till the age of 15. Then I quit because puberty took over and since then I’ve never found a work out routine that worked for me. Or, rather, I didn’t let it work because I gave up after being at the gym for 15 minutes and my ears were bleeding from the muscular men in the corner grunting louder than my Pump It-playlist on Spotify every time they lifted a weight.
Right now I’m at the point in my life where I’m starting to enter some sort of crisis. Or, let us call it a realisation. I can’t live like this anymore. I swear I can feel my bones breaking in my sleep and my lungs giving up after walking up two flights of stairs. Did I mention I suffer from hypochondria? I’ve been blessed (or maybe the opposite?) with a body that doesn’t really show that I don’t work out, at least when I wear clothes. Of course this illusion unravels as soon as the sweater goes of and someone touches my stomach that resembles a down pillow more than a six pack. But, looking healthy has resulted in me never feeling the need to actually exercise. But I now I realize that moving your body isn’t only in order to look good. It’s about, prepare yourselves… feeling good. I know I’m a bit late on the ball there, but whatever. I made it.
Every time I go home for break I leave the plane with the notion of me becoming a vigorous, ”fresh" person who like continuously cuts her toe nails before they break every sock in her drawer. Someone who chooses the brown bread before the white, have perfectly plucked eyebrows and does yoga every morning. This rarely (never) happens. In my point of view two yoga sessions during the 3 weeks that is my break is a success. I spend a lot of time having coffee with friends which often ends up with me ordering a cinnamon bun on the side. ”I’ve missed these so much, Germany doesn’t have anything like it”. -Yeah right. I pluck my eye brows maybe once. My socks are all broken and out comes a toe nail that was last painted with nail polish right before New Years. I’m the opposite of ”fresh”.
However. Last week I found something that was going to change my life forever. My parents has some sort of high tech television that carries YouTube right in the TV and I’ve been using the heck out of it. Last week I was in the middle of searching for this video (I was PMSing, okay?) and I stumbled across a BURN CALORIES DANCE WORK OUT (yes, the name is infuriating but intriguing). I decided to try it out and, you’ll never believe this, it was fantastic. I felt so 80s in my pink tank top, in front of the TV doing some weird 30 minute aerobics dance that gave me a muscle fever for the following three days. I even let out a ”WOHO!” when the overly joyful instructor in the video shouted "FREEEEEESTYLE!" and I could jump around as I wanted. Who am I?! And the most amazing thing of it all; I did the routine again two days later. This rarely happens, you guys. I’m the kind of person who think one work out session will last me six months. But this was actually FUN and I wanted to do it again. This is such new territory for me and I can’t wait to explore it.
I am aware of the fact that I make it sound like two 30 minute work outs have changed my I-hate-working-out-attitude. That’s why I will do it a mission for myself and try to continue doing this through out my whole next quarter. See it as a journey to a life where running to the bus isn’t going to kill you, if you will. And to all of you thinking that my goal is to get ”skinny”, think again. I want to get stronger and, I don't know, feel okay about having a party-smoke once in a while because at least now I work out... I really just don’t want to die before I’m 40 because I’ll trip on a shoe lace and my bones will somehow puncture a lung or my bladder or something else that can kill you.
Can I get an amen up in this bitch? (Yes, that's another Khloé quote)