I hate my treadmill.  That little bitch.

All you people that say you "enjoy" working out?  I'm calling your bluff. Right here, right now. 

There's no way that you enjoy the feeling of your heart beating in your goddamn head. Do you see it while it's happening?! Look in the mirror next time. I swear, your forehead will be pulsating. Boom boom, boom boom.  I think I'm dying. No. I am. I'm dying.

I don't sweat.  Which means I can't cool down.  I can't do this. I've covered up the timer so I don't know how long I've been going but I'm sure it's been at least 40 minutes. I gotta yell for my husband but I can't get the words out.  I'm huffing and puffing. Jimi! Help!

Ok, get yourself together. It's a stupid machine with a goddamn conveyer belt.  I have the power to turn this shit off, slow it down, STOP IT!

Except, I can't do any of those things because I'm holding on to the handles for dear life.  If I let go...oh God, if I let go. I can't hold myself up anymore. My legs are jiggling like jello. Oh yeah, that reminds me why I'm doing this. Keep going, chub rocket. Keep going.

The longer I spend on my treadmill, the louder and the heavier my steps become.  I'm pretty sure it sounds like a wildebeest is on the loose in here.

That's it. Slow down your speed. Slow it down. I've gained the strength and balance to turn off the treadmill. I'm done. I fuckin' did it.  Hold on. What the fuck does that say?! That can't be right. I must have hit the pause button. I better have. This is not funny.

12 minutes...12 goddamn minutes???!! I didn't even burn off that piece of See's candy I ate earlier. That was the longest 12 minutes of my life.

That's no joke. Ladies, you have NO business making fun of  "minute men." Those fuckers have some stamina!