What fresh fuckery is this, brain?

Lately in our household, we've been considering - very seriously - the idea of joining the YMCA. And too, actually going there a few times a week to walk, use the weights, swim, whatever.

This is insane.

I hate exercise with the burning passion of a billion effulgent suns. Every single fiber of my being is screaming bloody murder at the top of its (huh, that feels like the wrong identifier) lungs. Motherfucker, I just want to lie down and READ. I have absolutely no interest whatsoever in getting up and moving.

But somehow, this errant common sense and completely ridiculous and misplaced desire to "get in better shape" (you know, besides round) is winning out, and I am conflicted HATE it. And even being absolutely livid about it isn't stopping me from probably doing it.

I can only assume this means that I have officially gained "adult" status and really am as old as Boychild believes I am. Otherwise, there is something very wrong with me AND I WANT IT TO STOP NOW, PLSKTHX.

I never, ever thought I'd say this, but getting older sucks.

Or maybe it's not the getting older part, but the realizing it that sucks. I am not amused.