You know those people who gush about how much they love working out and how it's the best part of their day?! Well I hate them. Okay, maybe not hate. I just don't understand it. I literally have to force myself to go, I hate it the entire time, and usually am so exhausted when I get home that I have to examine my sanity- at least until I get into the routine of it all. Then I just dread going and dislike being there. But I know that it's good for me and I feel better generally speaking when I make a consistent habit of going. Oh, and I have an emotionally scarring lingerie experience to motivate me when all else fails. Since we're all close personal friends here I'll share said experience.
About three years ago I was shopping for something spicy for the bedroom. I perused the racks conscious of the fact that my baby was a year old and I was still carrying around baby weight plus the weight from recent life stress (aka job loss for J.Crew, more hours at my part time job, new job for J.Crew, leaving my job, renting out a house we had just bought and moving). I finally found a few things and took them into the dressing room. The perky attendant opened the door and offered to help with any sizing or style changes in a friendly voice. Then it was just me in the mood lit dressing room. As I pulled the first number on I had a crystal clear mental image of a hot dog casing being stuffed. Needless to say it wasn't pretty. I wriggled out of that one and tried on the second outfit. I do not exaggerate when I say it took every ounce of self control not to break down sobbing there in the dimly lit dressing room. I was devastated, disgusted and ashamed of how I looked. I made the decision then to make changes to my lifestyle to get healthy and lose weight. And I did. I got a gym membership and changed how we ate. When I get lazy and want to throw in the towel it doesn't take much to recall that moment in the dressing room and remember how difficult a road it was to get to where I am.
So after about a month hiatus from the gym (and exercise in general if I'm honest) I finally got my butt back to the gym. So here are some of my random observations:
BUMS: Seriously, who are these people at the gym at 10 in the morning and why aren't they at work?! I am a self proclaimed leach off my husband and therefore have no job (at least where I receive a paycheck). But seriously. And I'm not talking about the gray-hair-retirement-age-set or even the trolling-for-hot-chicks-showing-off-my-bod-college-frat-boys (and their female counterparts) or even the other women leaches like myself. The gym is completely packed with people ALL the time and it makes you wonder why nobody around here ever works.
INEFFECTIVE: Dear 30-something-year-old-male-preening-in-front-of-the-mirror, I understand that you spend much of your time here at the gym to attain the body that you have. But just think of how much time you'd save if you spent half as much time working your muscles as you do admiring them.
Dear College-frat-boy, You can be on your hands in push up position all day long but it's not going to do any good if you're just bobbing your head up and down like a bird looking for a worm. Nobody's impressed and you just look ridiculous.
GYM CRUSH: J.Crew often teases me about being bi-curious just because I can appreciate the female form. It's not a sexual thing. At the gym there's a 30-something year old mom who's probably 5'8" thin- but not skinny, unbelievably toned, walks through the gym with such confidence and warmth that people are drawn to her and just overall has the body that I want- but will never have because I'm nowhere near 5'8" and my body shape is more hour glass than long and lanky. But to me she is the epitome of health and I envy her body and confidence.