I have a love/hate relationship with going to the gym and this is why.

Surprisingly, I would rather sit on the couch with my dog, do homework, or go to class than go to the gym. I should be sorry, but I'm not.

Getting ready for the gym is hard work. I have to put on perfectly good clothes, knowing that I'm just going to have to wash them and myself when I get done. What a hassle, am I right?

Then I get to thinking of the food I could be eating instead of going to the gym. Again, not sorry.

I finally get to the gym and my body is literally laughing at me. There are people in there who could eat me for breakfast.

Time to recruit someone who will make me go to the gym and be successful, yeah! So I recruit my boyfriend. This is going to go great.

I'm so ready for this. I'm motivated and I know I'm just going to get stuff done.

So my boyfriend starts going over all these workouts we're going to do and I'm so ready.

I start the workouts...this is where the fun begins.

I'm trying really hard, but this is a joke, but he says I'm doing well. (LOL)

I tried to do one more rep as my ever so loving boyfriend was encouraging (and slightly aggravating) me and I couldn't move. My arms froze and he laughed at me.

But, hey, at least I tried, right?

He says we can leave as I'm praying I can reach my arms up far enough to get my keys off the wall and it's the best thing I've heard in the past hour.

I get home and of course (DUH) I'm hungry. I just sit in the kitchen waiting for food to come to me because I'm too tired to do anything else.

But in the end, I'm thankful he made me act like a big girl, even though I could barely move my arms for the next week because in the end/spring break it'll all be worth it.

P.S. Never do arm day with boys. NEVER.