Monday, April 12, 2010

Gazelles and Guidos

As I mentioned in previous blogs, once my wedding came and went I decided to indulge in all of the things that I had prohibited in my diet prior to the "BIG," day. And, again, as I mentioned in previous blog. I. Never. Stopped. It was a sad sight and now I am most certainly paying for it.

Now, left to my own devices, I have made a peace offering with my arch enemy, CARDIO, by joining my local $10/month gym, and decided to learn to tolerate it. (Really?! Like I'm gonna pay some outrageous membership at a big name gym. I'd rather look like a sausage in cute casing).

That brings us to tonight. After I locked myself in the library for 3.5 hours worth of writing papers, my guilty conscious got the best of me and the next thing I knew, I was sitting in the parking lot of the gym at 10 o'clock at night. What can I say? I'm a glutton for punishment.

I trudged inside only find out that EVERYONE in the entire world, was at the gym. Ugghh, you have to be kidding me. It was almost as bad a Saturday morning! I tend to prefer keeping under the exercise radar. I like to do my business, sweat, watch some muted tv, and head home for a shower.

Unfortunately, tonight, I was forced to take my spot between a guido that obviously had the Jersey Shore: GTL down to a slick science, and a former cheerleader with a pretty face but a severe case of camel toe. In case that isn't enough, the guy in front of me was fighting a serious bout of back-acne that was sprouting out of his wife-beater.

It was at this point that I stopped the cross trainer and checked my heart rate...I was convinced that I must be working too hard because it was not possible that this was my reality. It was. Planet Fitness after dark brings out the crazies. People don't come to work out, they come to be seen and scope out the opposite sex. Eeps! I was used to the 7am geriatric crew who really showed up for the poppyseed bagels provided on the first Tuesday of the month. This made me hang my un-makeupped face even lower. As I did so, I began to examine my movements on this cross trainer device. I was a newbie, I usually stuck to my normal routine but per a suggestion, sought put a cross trainer.

Now, now, don't make fun. I've tried the elliptical before and I am an absolute mess! I get discombobulated and twisted and motion sick. As a result, I have never done much research into it's close relatives, until tonight. I hopped on one, entered my height and weight and, I was off! I suddenly felt very free! Like I was a gazelle, hopping magically throughout the gym.

In reality, the mirror next to me showcased a less graceful blob in all black, chugging along. Oh well, I hadn't lost my footing yet. Oh no, spoke to soon. Just as I was looking down to figure out whether my feet were moving forward or backward on this magical device, I tripped. I was able to recover but not without squeal and death-grip on the handle bars.

Those handles were my favorite aspect. Not only did they save my life, but you could hold them in three different places for your cross training comfort AND they didn't move. This was a stellar addition to my lack of coordination. Once, I regained my composure from my near death-by-gliding, I peeked up to see if anyone had noticed. The unfortunate looking red head to my left had since abandoned his machine, I hope I hadn't scared him away from his 6 minutes of exercising. And, the sassy Latina to my right side was simultaneously text messaging, popping her chewing gum, and making kissy faces at Jose with her frosted pink lips and burgundy lip liner. Jose liked her too, she had an ass for days.

Ultimately, though, my time came to an end. All of this people watching had made it pass by quickly and after my initial hiccups, I mastered the machine. I'm thinking that late-night working out isn't such a bad thing, its good for people watching. Except next time, I'm going to have to do better to develop sports bra cleavage, tease my hair, and get tips from the ex-cheerleader on how to achieve optimal camel-toe in my yoga pants.

All in the name of health and wellness....

1 comment:

  1. muwhahaha..you have the curse of the jensen booty!..omgoodness I LOVE you!..work it baby..not work it off~

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