Instead of the John, I call my bathroom the Jim – that way it sounds better when I say I go to the Jim every morning.
I finally did it. After 25 years of life, and 10 years of judging people for eating right and staying fit, I have joined a gym. I feel like I am losing weight just owning a gym membership. Wouldn’t that be awesome? With the purchase of your gym membership today we will now lipo 10 pounds off your ass. Awesome.
Joining the gym is one thing, actually going is another.
Monday was the day, I signed my contract, got my card and was determined to go after work. I went. I died. I then contemplated whether I had just paid $86 for one class. I should just save the monthly payments and go for the lipo. I am all about convenience and little effort.
I may have joined a gym but I will probably actually never use it. I bought the group fitness rider class pass because let’s be honest, stick me in a gym and I’ll walk around and find out everyone’s life story and leave, without touching the equipment. With an instructor yelling at me, I tend to be more motivated. With that I had two choices on Monday at 5:30 – Zumba or Spin. I should have gone with Zumba.
I went to Spin.
It’s Wednesday, my ass still hurts.
Step one of getting me to class was changing which meant the women’s locker room. From here on out anyone that asks me about the gym or what to expect from a class the first thing I will warn them about is the women’s locker room. Nobody warned me of the horror I was about to see.
Naked women – everywhere. And, no, not the fit ones. I stared at the floor the whole time, and barely moved as I feared running into a naked body. People looked at me like I was bat shit crazy when I went and changed in the bathroom stall where I almost fell over 40 times trying to avoid making any contact with the floor as I fear there were wart germs waiting to cling to my feet. When I came out of the bathroom stall there she was – a 70 year-old grandma, naked, staring at herself in the mirror as she fixed her hair and make-up. I ran into the wall trying to avoid eye contact. Next time I’ll bring extra clothes to pass out to those that have apparently forgot – or maybe I’ll just grow up.
Step two is actually walking in. I was mortified. I had no idea what I was getting into and of course I was in class with Barbie, Ken and all their friends – I dare any of you to eat a burger, seriously. Or I may pull a Cady Heron and start offering up Kälteen bars. I was the new kid and everyone knew it, and if they didn’t the instructor made sure to announce it 27 times so everyone was aware. The instructor helped me set up my bike and once everything was set had me starting pedaling to warm up as we waited for a few more people.
After what felt like at least 15 minutes, I looked down … 3 minutes. Three minutes in I thought I was going to die and then the instructor announces “OK, time to warm up” – uh, wait, I’m already done. I wanted to leave – 3 minutes of exercise and I was set, felt good, my legs hurt and I wanted to go home. I stuck it out, it was ugly, probably pathetic but I made it.
Step three – ouch. I woke up the next morning and prepared myself for my legs to hurt. I had already warned my coworkers I’d probably be waddling around the office. I moved my legs, no pain. I launched up with excitement and that’s when I felt it. My ass hurt so bad – which makes sense since the bike seats are about as comfortable as concrete. I have a feeling these bike seats contributed to Lance Armstrong’s life with one ball. Shit, I’d probably just have both of them removed if I had to sit on one of those every day. Next time I think I’ll bring a pillow and some duct tape.
Yesterday, since there was no way my ass was going to sit on a spin bike for an hour, my coworker convinced me to go to Pure Barre. Well, now my whole body is sore. Those girls are machines, I felt I had stepped on to the set of The Stepford Wives. I’m glad Nicole Kidman didn’t show up, she scares me and I think she might actually be an alien. At the end I was just happy to be there, breathing and alive – but mostly I was just happy to get home and eat dinner.
Things I learned:
- I will never be a cyclist.
- I need to buy Pure Barre socks. My neon pink socks didn’t blend in with the army of robots.
- I have a hangnail on my left big toe.
- My ass may be large but it doesn’t provide any extra padding.
- I would never be caught dead in bike shorts.
- Nobody gives a shit what you look like while you work out. Except me, I stare at everyone.
- When you ask for a towel, make sure they know you are going to work out and not to the pool.
- It’s important to keep breathing.
- The 70 year old grandma is in better shape than myself.
I’ll try and keep you updated on my gym adventures, if I keep going. If I don’t I’ll be sure to keep you updated on my daily consumption of Bud Light and pizza.
I’m hoping to lose a pound by Christmas or maybe get to wear the coveted multi-million dollar bra in the annual Victoria Secret Fashion Show. Since I like to be realistic, tune into CBS in November.