After working out at a bargain-chain fitness center for a few years, I started experimenting with at-home fitness about a year ago. I checked out Pilates and yoga DVDs from my local library, started following a few fitness blogs, and bookmarked some YouTube channels. I also kept going with
sprinting running jogging around the neighborhood using the MapMyRun app on my phone.
The more I found myself exercising at home and in my neighborhood, the less I felt the need to go to the gym. Between the commute to the gym and fighting the siren song of donuts on Tuesdays once I was there*, I realized that gym just wasn’t for me at this moment in time. Makes sense, right? Right.
Here’s where it stops making sense and starts costing
cents dollars. Hundreds of dollars. My membership cost exactly $10 each month, totaling $120 a year. Plus that pesky $20 annual membership fee. Nonetheless, I waited over a year to cancel my membership. Why? Simple. Ten dollars didn’t seem like that big of a deal, especially since I kept telling myself that I might go back to working out at the gym one day. One day in the distant future when I’m no longer turned off by the ever-increasing amount of gym mirror selfies and sweaty people who ignore the signs asking them to wipe down machines when they’re done**.
I’m not sure if it was the constant fear of inadvertently photobombing someone else’s selfie or the fact that I started making a mental list of all the things I could have bought with $120, but I realized the gym isn’t changing anytime soon and I’m not going back either. So I marched in and asked to cancel my membership.
Apparently it was a long time coming. Turns out that not only did they have my name wrong in their system, they also had my birth date listed as January 1, 1919. Sadly, they had my credit card information stored correctly, and I owed them one last $10 payment. Don’t shed too many tears for me, though. After all, I look pretty good for someone who’s not a day over 96. Of course, this was also a good lesson to be more mindful with my spending.
*You read that right. There was also a pizza night once a month. It was either a form of torture or THE most genius marketing ploy ever. Full disclosure: it might not have been Tuesday. I avoided the donuts about as well as I avoided the communal floor mats.
**I can do a lot of things. Sitting in a puddle of someone else’s perspiration is not one of them.
So Tell Me…Have you ever lit $10 bills on fire? Are you guilty of any mindless spending? Do you have a gym membership that you actually use?