A call to laziness: My rationale for not working out

I don’t believe in working out. Something about the practice just doesn’t make sense to me.

Why go to the gym when I could eat nine Pop-Tarts? Why go for a bike ride when I could watch the entirety of Friends for the
tenth time?

I understand why some people want to go to the gym – they want to get in shape. They want to look in the mirror and jump back when they see Channing Tatum or Kim Kardashian staring back at them, and that’s an excellent reason.

We live in a world where being fit is in and aspiring for physical fitness is an admirable thing. And honestly, it’s a much healthier route to take.

But hear me out. What about laziness?

I’m a busy person. I have class and work and homework. My time isn’t my own and the second I have a moment to be free, I’m not exactly hankering to go sweat it out at the gym. I’m far more interested in sitting back and watching Netflix or just eating with some buds.

I think in this exercise-obsessed world we live in, people overlook the beauty of being lazy.

Laziness is highly underrated.

An article from Livestrong.com states that a lack of motivation or a lack of time are easily overcome problems. All you have to do is want it. You must want to work out.

I don’t. And many others like me don’t.

In my group of friends, only one of us frequents the gym. We’re all different shapes and sizes and we all have different schedules – some of them less demanding than others – but the last thing any of us wants to do is get sweaty and disgusting after spending the whole day working hard on various activities.

There’s just nothing in me that makes me want to work out. If I’m not sitting in class or sitting in the Muenster University Center, I’m walking somewhere.

I suppose this is coming from a very entitled place. I have no need to exercise, adding to my lack of motivation.

My diet consists of coffee, Pop-Tarts and pizza bagels. I spend more time watching Broad City and working on homework in MySpanishLab than I could ever imagine spending trying to get shredded.

I’m sure the biggest issue is that I just don’t care. I’m sure that’s the biggest issue with a lot of people. But when there are so many incredible, exciting reasons not to worry about working on legs or arms, who can
blame me?

Maybe someday when my arteries start to close because I’ve eaten one too many Mallomars or when the producers of My 600-lb Life come knocking on my door, I’ll start working out. But until that day comes,
who cares?