A 10-Step Process For Working Out After Happy Hour


Unfortunately, that magical entity called your metabolism is in the process of retiring, just as you launch your postgrad career as an entry-level extraordinaire. This means you can’t drink beer or eat fast food every night and still look fabulous while maintaining an average of one or two gym dates a week.

One of the unfortunate forthcomings of adulthood is the ability to use the entire day. I work from 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. Sure, I could go to the gym on my lunch break but then I would smell the rest of the day, because let’s be real–I am not taking a full on shower in the creepy work locker room. I could try to be really ambitious and go to the gym at 5:30 a.m., but the reality of that happening is slim to none. As much as I want to just go home and veg out while playing Luigi’s Mansion when I get home, I have every intention of looking like a sexy creature while I venture to Vegas for my birthday in my new fabulous bikini. The gym after work is the best I can do.

The only problem with this is that it conflicts with one of the only benefits of having an adult life and job: happy hour. Half-price drinks and food? Who can say no to that?

I love happy hour! It brightens my damn day and helps me justify the entry-level bullshit that I feel way too overqualified to do. So to have to choose between exerting physical energy that, frankly, I don’t have after a long day of sitting on my ass or my $4 friend who gives me a nice buzz? You get the picture.

But what happens if we combine the two? No need to thank me for testing this theory.
First, I start slamming water at the end of happy hour. I only had two glasses of wine, but my cousin is bartending, so I actually consume double of what a serving normally is. I get in my car and contemplate going home, going to Target, or going to the gym. Going to Target is always a slippery slope, and I know I won’t get out of there without spending at least $50, so I go to the gym instead. Even if I just go sit in the sauna and let the wine seep out of my pores, it’s a good thing. “Dedication,” I think ambitiously to myself as I envision looking exactly like the Victoria’s Secret model sporting the new bikini I bought. Here’s the thing about dedication after you’ve had a few drinks: you are not nearly as capable as you thought you were 10 minutes ago.

  1. I stroll in the locker room, where I clumsily remove my boots, leggings, etc. I take out my workout gear, get dressed, go to place my keys in my back pocket, and realize I put my pants on inside out.
  2. As I undress in order to fix my pants, I knock my water bottle, phone, and book on the ground.
  3. Leaving the locker room, I make a beeline for the machines where I am certain there will be a plug for my phone on the metal power strips. Wrong.
  4. I nearly run back in the locker room to take a picture of my locker, just to make sure I remember which one it is, so I don’t try to unlock another person’s like a jackass.
  5. Getting on the elliptical, my legs begin to feel like Jell-O. Tingly, funny Jell-O. By giggling and Snapchatting my friends, I begin to draw more attention to myself. It didn’t help when I tripped over myself looking for an outlet five minutes ago.
  6. After I contain myself, I start to ramp it up on the good ol’ elliptical. I start sweating.
  7. People around me exchange concerned glances with each other, as the smell of red blend courses through their noses. With envy, as I like to think.
  8. I move onto the seated squat press and realize I have to adjust the seat. This evening, I just can’t make it work. I whack it with the force of Zeus before I can get it to move. Again, I draw more attention to myself.
  9. I nearly asked the guy next to me for help, but figure he would interpret that as a pick up line. Not now, chief. I am in the zone.
  10. Finally, I decide to go home. I text my BFF Jill to let her know what I just accomplished. Her response? “At least you tried.”

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Bitter/ still slightly optimistic post grad surviving a mundane and generally boring job by drinking copious amounts of wine, joining a crafting group and having kitten minions.

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