Feel free to make this your desktop background. It's mine until Summer starts.
There's nothing worse then getting back into a gym routine. You show up at the gym the first few times and feel pasty, saggy and ill equip to be mounting giant machines for long periods of time. Slowly, you'll gain confidence. But for now, it's all about hating every person with a nice set of abs and trying to secretly squeeze Crisco into their protein shake to make yourself feel better.
You start out by doing the easy stuff - like the elliptical/level 1 or the bike that is basically a video game to distract you from the fact that you're actually working out. You may try to run on the treadmill but find the exertion to interfere with your watching of Millionaire Matchmaker, which always seems to be on the gym televisions. (I heart you, Patty). So you either walk, or make your way over to the stair machine*footnote 1, which I also refer to as "my version of Hell", thinking it's better than running and risking a major treadmill fall. Fortunately, I'm not drunk when I go to the gym like that guy.
First of all, all you woman who put makeup on at the gym BEFORE you work out can bite me. I hate you all. Second, I'm trying out this potential new gym, and when did they start staffing live DJ's? If I wanted to go to a dance club I'd be shaking my booty at the nearest gay bar. Third, I've discovered that group exercise classes with my co-workers are ideal because my competitive spirit makes me want to crush every single one of them like a little ant.
***side rant ended***
This week, I was highly distressed when taking a class called Fluidity (which I happen to be in the infomercial for, no joke, when I was a few years younger, more agile and pretty buff, if I say so myself). I was doing a stretch where you sit on the floor, stretch one leg out and pull the other one in, while you lift your arms over your outstretched leg and lean over, getting a nice stretch in your lower back and hamstring. While I did this, I realized that I wanted to stretch even further down and out, but I couldn't! My stomach rolls were in the way. They were *physically* prohibiting me from going any further even though my muscles wanted me to!! How devastating a revelation is that?!
Regardless, my foray back into the fitness world has been a bit of a culture shock.
Here's a quiz for you (the answer is provided at the end of this post):
Due to the past few months of rigorous activity that I refer to as "watching Dexter on the couch for 5 hours straight" what of the following has occurred:
a) less focus at work
b) fewer come-ons from random strangers with wandering eyes
c) more nacho consumption (extra sour cream, please!)
e) I'm a bitch and it's a trick question
f) All of the above
footnote 1 I don't mean a Stairmaster - the pedals that just go up and down - I'm talking about the machine that is actually a set of 4 or 5 steps that rotate. Do you know how many people I've seen fall off this machine? Too many. (well, there's no such thing as *too many* because I live to see people fall, but you catch my drift). Whomever built this torturous piece of machinery should be crushed with it, slowly and painfully.
On a side note, on a scale of 1 to 10, how sad is it that the season premier of Gossip Girl is the highlight of my week?
answer to pop quiz: (f) It's shameful, really.