For lack of anything better to do, I joined a gym.

It had been a long time coming. To say the least, it’s taken these many years just to get over my passionate hatred of “gym class.” Now that I’ve finally put aside my animosity for volleyball, dodgeball, and running the mile after my lunch period, I think I can now walk into a weight room and not break down crying.

The second reason for the delay is also the same reason that I need to join a gym in the first place. I’m a lazy ass. There’s a conundrum for you.

Exercise has always seemed to be the answer to all my problems; low energy, low self confidence, general depression, getting chicks. The only thing holding me back has been… well… the gym’s way over there.

I weighed myself at home yesterday. I think if any one thing influenced my flight to the gym it was that. I stepped on the scale and, once again, was convinced it was broken. I weighed myself twice, and then proceeded to weigh household objects just to be sure the scale was right. I fully expected the scale to tell me that the gallon of milk I put on it was 30 pounds overweight. Oddly enough, it wasn’t.

It appears that those ten pushups I do every other month aren’t doing the trick. Go figure. I had to think; since I can’t commit to a regular exercise program on my own, how am I going to get in shape? Of course, spend money on it! Knowing I have cash invested in something would certainly spur me to get my money’s worth.

Believe me, if I paid for all the bullets in the gun, you better keep shooting me until it’s empty. You know what I mean?

So I selected a gym, went in, and paid a surprisingly high startup fee, and a surprisingly low monthly fee and I now have access to over 50 exercise machines that I have no idea how to use.

I asked the good looking girl at the front desk if there were any classes for someone… let’s say a friend of mine… who doesn’t know anything at all about reps, target heart rate, or exercise in general. She kindly told me I could sign up, or my friend could sign up (wink wink, nudge nudge, know what I mean?) for an introduction class.

So, when all was said and done, I was a member of a gym. I got a membership card, workout record sheet, and a free t-shirt. When I got home I tried the t-shirt on. It was a great fit. I hadn’t done any exercise, but I was already looking more muscular, more manly, and… wait… are my nipples showing through?