And so I used it. I loved it and it loved me. I think the first week we had it I used it 4 times. Not bad for a fattie! :) By the 4th time I had gotten a blister on my precious little pinky toe. It might have been the shoes or it might have been the fact that my feet weren't used to all the walking. You know how when you do an activity that you don't normally do and you get sore in places that you didn't even know there was muscle? I am pretty sure this was the same type of problem with my toes. At any rate I had to take a couple of days off. So the next week I was back at it. And I used it 3 times. And then the next week 2 times. And then the next week no times. And I haven't been back on it since.
Why? I ask myself. Why? I actually enjoy it once I am on there and I feel great after. So why is it so difficult for me to get my lazy butt up and get on that treadmill and walk it out? I think I have come up with a solution. The treadmill is cold and sterile and doesn't have a name. It has no feelings and could care less if I use it or not. And maybe that's the problem. Maybe we need to be friends first before I get so intimate with it. Seriously, how many friends ask you every time you see them how much you weigh and which friend of yours would you be comfortable enough telling? Yet every time I get on that treadmill it says to me, "how much do you weigh" and I willingly punch in those dreaded numbers. And then the next time I see that treadmill it asks me the same question and I totally tell it...again! It's just plain rude. So I decided that being on a first name basis would be a step in the right direction.
So Bella is her name and now I can start rebuilding a relationship that is so intimate that I will tell her my weight every time she asks...I know my secret's safe with her.