Working out

I want to lose a few pounds, maybe even twenty.
I would be satisfied if I could shed fifty pounds.
I could join a gym, but I lack the willpower to do so.
I don't want others to see my legging-clad legs.

My exercise bike is rusting away and is barely touched when I really have to dust.
It also made me feel bad (and lazy, not to mention) like a pet in need of attention.

Of course, there was an obvious remedy.
I acquired an elliptical trainer for my friend.
This is quite simple! I thought as much after using it in-store for a whole fifteen seconds.


But after I got home and tried it longer, the only thing that intensified was the discomfort in my side.
I gasped and puffed till I was unable to breathe.
It had begun at nine and was now nine thirty three.

Yes, of course! There must be an extremely high resistance.
But no, it said "0," making me feel like crying.
My level of fitness was actually rather alarming, the six on the dial sat silently taunting.

I could only see myself losing my motivation, and my self-esteem was suffering.
I tried it with music, but nothing came of it.
The sound of my poor groaning knees was muffled by it.


This torture device ought to go for a walk.
I looked longingly at my reliable bike just now.
I couldn't think of a reason why we had broken up.
got up on the seat and exclaimed, "Happy days!"

I pedaled hard, but soon I realized...
My buttocks felt like they were being cut apart.
Why does it feel like I'm perched on a brick when I have rather thick padding on my behind?

It was all just too difficult, so I gave up in disgust.
My attempt to lose weight was obviously a failure.
Well, at least I can say I gave it a shot.

Really, you can't expect me to diet!