The bonfire of my vanity, or how I learned to love the gym
Lately, getting to the gym has been a struggle. Used to be, I was pretty good about it—four, five times a week, even when I was feeling a little logy. No, especially when I felt a little logy, because I chose to believe what all the women’s magazines I write for have said: That working out gives you energy, even as you expend energy climbing endlessly to nowhere on a machine made by someone who must have had a terrible childhood. (more…)
