You are shit. You are old. You are pathetic. You are weak. You are lazy.
Why are you here? Who do you think you are? Can't you see how ridiculous you look? Don't you know you're embarrassing yourself?
Welcome to the inside of my head on Wednesday morning. Drenched in sweat, breathing hard, heart pounding. Crying.
Watch: The horoscopes working out. Post continues below.
I've started exercising again. I know, how boring. You know how it goes: How do you know when someone has got "back into their fitness"? They'll tell you.
And so it is. Here I am, with my Kmart active wear and my smug, "No, I can't tonight, I have to get up and go to training."
Well, I wasn't so smug on Wednesday morning.
I've joined a boot camp. It's been a couple of months and I love it. The people who meet down at my local beach every morning are a motley crew of all ages and abilities. But they all have something in common: They are all better at it than me.
This is the cold, hard reality of getting "back into your fitness". If you've been away having babies, if you've been away on a cheese-testing sabbatical, or recovering from injury, or you've been busy caring for other people who need you at those times you once were able to run, skip, stretch, kick, bat, whatever... well, re-entry can be steep.
And on Wednesday, my red face slammed right into that vertical learning curve.
Listen to Holly on Mamamia Out Loud, where she talks about her bootcamp session in Best and Worst. Post continues below.
It was a hard session. A new trainer. A big group. There were burpees. And skipping. And push-ups. And sprints. There was no rest, no recovery. It was hardcore, by design.
After the fourth time the skipping rope tripped me up, I started swearing.