I have this treadmill because I broke my leg last September. I didn't blog about it because it bummed me out too fuckin' much. The treadmill was part of my physical therapy and I pretty much hated every second of it. I am not an "exercise because it's good for you" kind of person. To me, that's the height of boring. Now I will exercise if there's something in it for me. For instance, I wouldn't hesitate to take a nice healthy walk if my car was broken and I ran out of cigarettes (though first I'd try to get someone else to score for me).
The only thing the treadmill could give me was me leg back. No fun, but I had to do it. Of course, as soon as I had my last follow-up appointment, I quit using it. I suppose I shouldn't be such an ingrate. It did literally save my ass (from exploding) since I ate copious quantities of ice cream all winter.
The only thing the treadmill could give me was me leg back. No fun, but I had to do it. Of course, as soon as I had my last follow-up appointment, I quit using it. I suppose I shouldn't be such an ingrate. It did literally save my ass (from exploding) since I ate copious quantities of ice cream all winter.
Nonetheless, it's been a big, heavy, ugly eyesore in my living room for far too long. The good news: This past weekend, my mister and our medieval warrior friend hauled it upstairs. I don't have to look at it looking at me anymore. And I might actually use it this winter so I can continue eating ice cream. Can't go gettin' fat just cuz I'll be an old married lady, right?
PS: Now I can see the other bookshelf again- yay!
PS: Now I can see the other bookshelf again- yay!
