My calves hurt. A lot. I know I’ve only been unemployed for all of two days and with the possibility of having no job from anywhere for a few weeks to a few months there is a very good chance that this time next month I’ll be banging my head against the computer screen begging you all to put me out of my misery.

But today, my calves hurt.

Why? Because I had a rendez-vous with my former lover.

His name is gym, and he is sexy.

About a month before the wedding I stopped going. I had too much to do and no time to squeeze in an hour at a crowded gym when there were envelopes to stuff and seating cards to write. The pre-wedding stress was enough to keep my weight down, but the post-wedding eating was enough to make me feel like a blob.

Yesterday, my time wide open and unscheduled, I strolled back through those familiar doors. I was apprehensive to step on the scale, but was pleasantly surprised to see the number was lower than that last time I weighed myself. This is probably because of loss of muscle mass. We’ll pretend it’s from the surprise gift of an amazing metabolism that happened to be bestowed upon me as a wedding gift.


An hour and a half later I left, slightly sore, pretty sweaty, and really, really happy. Those crazy endorphins.

Today, I can hardly walk. Or lift my arms. But it was worth it.