Thursday, November 08, 2007

NaBloPoMo 8: Swimming with endorphins

Yesterday I received a rather unpleasant voice mail.* Someone wanted to rip me a couple of new nostrils, or maybe two nostrils and an anus.

At any rate, I was mildly perturbed by the situation. I pondered it long and hard.

What I didn't do? Is binge eat. Or drink more than the usual glass of wine with dinner.

Instead, I found myself thinking: "I can't wait to head to the gym tomorrow and get on the treadmill."

Pal Fiddledeedee said it best: "Just imagine--the gym rats and tennis playing girls were right all along."

Exercise is the best, cheapest, OTC treatment for anxiety and depression. Two months of gym going, and I'm addicted.

I don't crave Doritos. I crave enDorphins

*Understated a la WASP. But then I thought, how will anyone be able to tell that I was upset? So I stuck in some italics.

8 comments:

  1. You're good. I would have been threatening to return the favor and rip that person a new one. And I probably would have done so with M&Ms in my fat cheeks.

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  2. I miss the gym and its endorphins and its wonderful de-stressing. *sob*

    There are a few people I'd like to hit over the head with a treadmill right about now...

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  3. One thing I've never been addicted to?
    The dorphins.
    Oh, and heroin - but whatev.

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  4. The gym didn't help me. Read all about it at http://suburbancorrespondent.blogspot.com/2005/12/its-been-while-since-my-last-letter-but.html

    I wish I knew how to insert that link elegantly, but I don't.

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  5. Endorphins are good. Wine is good. Together is excellent.

    My problem any more is that I mistake the wine endorphins for the exercise endorphins and figure lifting the bottle is good enough. I never make it to the exercise part anymore. That's changing this weekend.

    Proud of you Poppy! But what happens when we have to rename you Poppy Buff? It doesn't have the same je n'est ce qois.

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  6. I'm trying to switch my addiction to the naturally secreted endorphins, from the ones I imagine are secreted when I drink copious amounts of wine. You'd think I'd learn, when one offers the promise of the toned bod and the other, a headache in the morning... but as yet, that lesson escapes me.

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  7. I wish I was addicted to going to the gym. Sadly, I am not. I am good for a while, then I get really really bored and stop going. Currently I'm in the middle of a "not going" phase. Seriously, it bores me to tears. I think it would be better if you had someone to go with, because going by yourself sucks. Wine sounds good, though.

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  8. This is what works. Fill your life with blathering children, a spouse who always asks you questions when you're trying to read, and a cell phone that won't stop ringing.

    Gym becomes a peaceful haven. Yes, even with a hundred other sweating fatties thundering away on their treadmills, non-stop background music, and announcements blaring over the loudspeakers.

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Gentle Readers:

For the time being, I've turned off comment moderation. Please don't spam; it's not nice.

xxx, Poppy.