On Monday I woke up with an energy that clearly wasn’t mine.

I said,
This week I’m starting my fitness life.

I took a before picture (with an extremely motivated face), made myself a green tea that tasted like regret, and searched on YouTube:
Beginner workout routine.

I chose a video that said: Easy and for everyone.
Lies.

By minute 7, I was already negotiating with my dignity.
By minute 12, I was talking to myself:
Who jumps like this voluntarily?
Why is this woman smiling while I see my life flashing before my eyes?

On day two, I woke up with muscles I didn’t even know existed.
It hurt to blink.

I was walking like I had fought a wardrobe… and the wardrobe had won.

By Wednesday, I officially declared:

Fitness wasn’t a lifestyle… it was an emotional phase.

I put away the weights (a water bottle and a backpack full of books), made myself a coffee with pride, and decided something important:

I don’t need abs.
I need peace.

And that’s how my transformation lasted exactly 48 hours…
but I learned something:

The real workout was learning to laugh at myself.