I’m going to join a gym. Like, today. I realize that I’ve been saying this for years, and I don’t know why I never seem to get around to it. But this time it’s really going to happen. It’s all about positive thinking. Getting in better shape will be good for both my body and my spirit.

         (You’re not going to actually do it. You never actually do it.)

         It’s just a healthy thing to do, end of story.

         (Yeah, healthy to be exposed to all those germs. Healthy to be sore all the time. Healthy to pull a few muscles. You seem healthy now-why push it?)

         I’ll live longer if I lose a little weight.

         (Will you? Will you really? Say you’re backpacking and you get completely lost in a freak snowstorm. That fat will insulate you from the cold and provide vital calories. Or what if you get caught in a riptide and swept out to sea? Fat insulates and floats, you know. You could just kick back and wait for a rescue, your big white belly easy to spot from a helicopter. And what’s so great about living longer? Every year you’re alive you come up with a few more things that just piss you off. Consider: one more year being alive means one more year of holiday traffic.)

         I’ll look better. I’ll get down to my ideal dating weight.

         (Right. Goodbye fat, hello wrinkles. That’s so hot. Besides, listen, if you get all buffed up you’ll attract shallow women who only care about appearances. You don’t need that. So far, you've had reason to believe that people you’ve dated have liked you for you, not your body. You want to throw that all away?)

         I’ll feel better about myself.

         (Three words: Big swollen head. Call a contractor and widen the doorways--here comes Sven with his Mega-Ego! You’ll look great in that full-body purple spandex workout suit, or so you’ll think. Ever notice how buff guys are so damn arrogant? You want to be like them? Think. What would Jesus do? Pump iron? No. Maintain your humility. It works for you.)

          It’ll make me feel like a whole different person.

         (Look, if you don’t like yourself, that’s a different issue. Get therapy. Same effect, but you can do it on a comfy couch. But let’s say the gym does make you a new man. What if you don’t like him? More exercise means more testosterone, which means less hair and more Hummers. I’m begging you, think this through.)

         I’m doing it today. Once I’ve forked over the money, I’ll be committed. I hate wasting money.

         (Wait! The gyms are packed around the holidays. You know you hate crowds. If there’s a bad first impression, you won’t go any more. You’ll waste the money. At least wait until February, when all those weak-willed New-Years-Resolution types have dropped out.)

         Anyway, it’s not really all that expensive.

         (The membership is just the tip of the iceberg. Think of all the extras! You’ll need an ipod to drown out whatever retro top forty hits they’ve got playing. You’ll also need workout clothes and shoes and, I don’t know, a towel? Speedo? Consider too the laundry costs. If you stick it out and get to the “target weight” your paranoid doctor recommends, none of your pants will fit anymore. Won’t that be nice. You know how you love shopping for pants.)

         I could definitely use the exercise. I feel better when I exercise.

         (You don’t need a gym for exercise. Why don’t you march on Washington or something? Do the AIDS ride. You’ve got a bike. Why do you pay a premium to live in such a beautiful place if you’re just going to sit inside and pedal something that doesn’t even go anywhere? It’s so easy to hike and bike and kayak and climb trees around here. Combine the exercise with adventure. Get your money’s worth out of living here.)

         I could see really getting into it.

         (Oh fine, and wear out your body. Someday you might need it and then where will you be? You’ll come upon somebody needing CPR but you can’t kneel because of the pins in your knees, and your shoulders are too sore from doing a million reps anyway. Feh.)

         It’d be nice…

         (You’ll miss a lot of good television, too.)

         …nice to get out of my head once in a while.

         (Now you’re hurting my feelings. We’re a team! I’m going with you, but I warn you: I’m going to bitch the whole time.)

         Oh look, the day’s over. I’ll have to do it tomorrow.

         (Atta boy. No point rushing a big decision anyway. Now go get me a beer. I’m exhausted.)