For tomorrow's entry, I will compare "Boogie Nights" to dieting

When Goodfellas first came out in 1990, I had NO DESIRE to see it. I was a bit tired of the whole "gangster as anti-hero" genre and had heard it was over-the-top violent, so count me out. I'll stick to Europa Europa that year, thank you. (Did I mention I was VERY snobby at the time?)

Plus Ray Liotta gives me the heebie-jeebies.

But sure enough, there was no escaping the damn movie a year or so later, when HBO decided to show it about 20 times a week. (I may exaggerate SLIGHTLY, but you know how once they get to premiere a movie, there shall be many reminders that HBO IS THE ONLY CHANNEL where you can see this fine film. Ok, I see the point of your pride HBO...until said film is Deuce Bigalow: Male Gigolo.)

So I threw all caution to the wind and sat down to watch these Fellas of Good. It did get nominated for numerous awards after all. How bad could it be? Hmmm....

First viewing: Watch entire movie through laced fingers. Realize sound effects are equally disturbing, so plug ears. I can still hear the stabbings...LA LA LA I CAN'T HEAR YOU...LA LA LA. Forget it...how do you watch a movie with eyes and ears closed?

Second viewing: Manage to see more of the movie since I'm now aware of when EXACTLY to run out of the room. Still miss some, since I can't be quite sure when to return. But hey, you know what, this is pretty good.

Third viewing: Good narrative structure. Excellent acting. Engrossing story... but still with LOTS AND LOTS of blood. Oh screw it, just watch it all.

Fourth viewing: Have now taken to saying, "Do I AMUSE you?" at completely inappropriate times. Like at work. To someone I'm putting on probation. I crack myself up.

Fifth viewing: THIS IS THE BEST DAMN MOVIE EVER! Why did I not experience this sooner?! When did they say it was on again??

It can take me a while, but I have learned this: sometimes that which I may dread or wish to avoid most, is really the one thing I need to try.

Kind of like exercise...

After going to the game on Saturday, I woke up to unfathomably sore legs on Sunday. Damn those season tickets in row 60. And my need to keep going back up and down for more pretzels and/or churros.

But following the hobble-around-like-an-80-year-old impression I performed yesterday, I thought this is ridiculous. I shouldn't be so out-of-shape. OK, I tell myself that exact same thing EVERY Sunday night (don't you always have the very best of intentions for the start of the coming week?).

I USED to be really good about working out. I USED to be a complete gym rat, with a personal trainer and EVERYTHING.

(I also used to date too many of the guys who came up to talk to me while I was on the treadmill, including far too many Family Fitness Center employees/managers/personal trainers, so maybe that's the reason I haven't returned in years. Either that, or it was the time my then boyfriend's ex came after me in the parking lot...TRYING TO HIT ME WITH HER CAR. That'll teach me for going out with the biggest flirt in the damn gym.)

I was BUFF though, let me tell you. Yes, I also wasn't eating, but I looked great! And Jill, my trainer, and I got to be such good friends that we celebrated my 31st birthday together with a REALLY GREAT WORKOUT...followed by SALADS! My other friends thought perhaps I was going a bit overboard.

But now that I'm OLD and stuff, I should see this as more than esthetics. I need to be healthy. I keep telling myself that, anyway. Ugh.

I actually called this morning to see how we can use the local club, which supposedly is available to us for free since we live in the area. Mr. Blogger even said he'll make it a habit to go too. I'm trying at least.

Maybe by the fifth workout I'll exclaim, "THIS IS THE BEST DAMN GYM EVER! Why did I not experience this sooner?!".

Maybe.