A Fitness Cult

I went to the BodyArt workout today - for the first time since New Year. For some reason I could never get to workouts during these two weeks - either they had been cancelled or the time had been changed, and I didn't know.
But I went there today, and the body had almost forgotten the movements that I thought it new by heart. Anyway, I felt such a high afterwards that I applied for a masterclass in a couple of weeks, a 3-hour-workout, 20 euros, in Riga. And I came home and told my husband that I really really really wanted to go to the BodyArt summer camp (220 euros).
- Wow, - he said. - That's a lot of money. Are you sure you're not in some religious cult?

Oh, I do hope I am. I want to be a part of that fitness cult so, so, so much...

(P.S. And also, last Friday in a counselling lecture the professor told us that it was actually the standard way of battling addictions - to replace them with socially acceptable addictions - most frequently sports and fitness. How I wish to get rid of that sugar addiction and replace it with workouts... What's keeping me from really doing it? If I only knew.)
(P.P.S. A psychotherapist whose group counselling I attended used to say, "But you do know. Don't say you don't. A person always knows.")