A Letter to My Workout via GIFS

Dear Eternal Optimists:
This post is not for you.

Dear Workout Class Instructor:
No. Just no. I'm not feeling you. And no, I will not "find the burn" and "just give in to the burn and stay there. stay in the pain."

If I wanted to TORTURE MYSELF I would get some whips and chains and handcuffs for my bedroom. That's painful and cardio all at the same time, biatch.

Dear fellow workout classmates:
DO YOU SEE THE FACES YOU'RE MAKING?!?! Why do you insist on inflicting so much pain on yourself??? This is WEIRD. I want to go back to the days where we didn't have to torture ourselves to STAY IN SHAPE. When you just walked everywhere and just the activity of being alive was a workout. How weird is it that we spend an hour every other day(ish) literally TORTURING ourselves and RIPPING our muscles apart...only to go sit down for the rest of the day???? I DON'T UNDERSTAND THIS AND I DON'T WANT TO UNDERSTAND THIS.

Dear workout classes:
You should be separated not by experience levels but by bra size. All these girls who don't have to wear any form of sports bra and just prance around in their neon colored twenty-criss crossing-straps-just-for-decoration are really pissing me off.

And this? Not happening. Let me tell you what happens as soon as you bend remotely halfway over to pick up a weight or I don't know, workout...those puppies are gonna fall right out. This picture is filled with lies. 

Dear Missourah:
You try my patience like no other. I do not know what our deal is, but we are not sympatico. Every day I wake up with less and less patience. I lived in a house with 40 other girls for three years in a row and never wanted to cut a bitch run away screaming more than I do from you.

Dear Easter weekend:
You were more fun at college when we camped out in our sorority house, sun bathed on the roof, partied a little too hard, stayed up till 5 am 'watching movies,' and got to see one of our sisters welcomed into the Catholic Church to be followed by the world's greatest Catholic party of wine, appetizers and visiting priests. I miss you.

Dear Michigan:
Miss you too. Good thing we'll be reunited soon.

Dear Mackinac Island:
You've been stuck in my mind lately and I don't mind. I could use your sunshine, bicycles, boardwalks, beaches, fudge, and lakeshore anytime right about now. I think it's time I start recruiting friends to take a trip up there with me this summer....yes? Yes.

Dear spaghetti:
Still planning on making you. Except instead of noodles I'll use bacon and instead of red sauce I'll use cheese sauce.