I used to make fun of the people jogging in their multi-colored outfits up and down the street when I was sitting in the car with the air conditioner on. I used qualify walking up and down my stairs to do my laundry as exercise. And I used to eat ice cream after dinner whenever I felt like it (every day) and tell myself that I deserved it after the rough day I had (sat in my chair and had a headache from watching too much TV).

But now I’ve changed. Thanks to my exercise-crazed friends, I took part in a Zumba (salsa dance) class.

Gone are the days when I slept peacefully on weekend mornings until 11 or 12:00. Now, I’m up at 7:30 to go to the gym and sweat in places that humans weren’t meant to sweat. And the worst thing about it… I actually like it.

I’ve become one of those people, the exercise enthusiasts, who tell others “You should come to so-and-so class! It makes you completely sore and you can’t feel your quads for days. It’s the best!” I’ve even been looking at other exercise classes my gym offers with something resembling glee. In fact, there’s a pilates class on Thursday and I’m actually excited to try it out.

What is wrong with me? I used to want to run over people who ran on the street next to my house, and now I’ve started wearing their multi-colored work out clothes and running alongside them.

But I can tell you one thing. I will never be one of those people who diet like their lives depend on it. I will not talk about a new brussell sprouts diet or try out some cabbage juice cleanse. I will remain normal in that aspect, or at least, I sincerely hope so. If not, I give you grounds to punch me. Every last one of you.

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