Yesterday I stood at the gym entrance feeling like a first-grader at a gang fight, everyone in spandex with shakers while I’m in a shirt with a borscht stain. A trainer, a mountain of muscle with a shark smile, comes up and says let’s hit the treadmill baby, I got on and five minutes later realized the treadmill leads straight to hell. He yells pick up the pace and I can only wheeze back that I’m just fluffy-boned and came here to look at the water cooler. Long story short my fitness ended when I couldn't get off the machine and two admins had to peel me off. Left the place, bought an éclair and decided body positivity is the only religion I’m ready to practice. To hell with dumbbells, I choose carb-heavy happiness and a soft couch🐌