It’s January. Everybody and their brother resolves to lose weight and get in shape for the new year. This means the gym in January is packed. Packed with people in their brand new gym clothes and shiny new tennis shoes. Here’s me: annoyed. My if-you-have-been-coming-here-long-enough-you-know-I-call-dibs-on-this-locker is gone, my favorite cardio machines are taken and I have to wait in line for a shower.
Hey – I’m all for working and feeling your best – go man go! But, I prefer to bypass the gym until the “January gymers” are gone. This means that I have to resort to workout DVDs at times. That happened tonight – and it was epic.
My friend recommended a DVD to me and said, “If you can finish half of it? I’ll be fully impressed.” Um – GAME ON! I pop the thing in thinking it was going to be cake. HELL NO. Warning. Grab your pearls mama. I am about to unleash a little cursing.
The first sign that this would be difficult? The terrified “run for the love of God” look on the girl’s face to the trainer’s left and the “I’m about to shit myself” look on the man in the back. Slightly apprehensive, I continue through the warm up. That was the last nice thing that happened. Here’s how it went down:
TV: after an intense series of flies and rows – 2 more!
Me: sweat dripping down my back
TV: Just kidding, 15 more
Me: Damn you!
TV: Now switch and go 30 – Angel, if you are going to do this half ass, don’t do it at all.
Me: The hell? Were you talking to me?
No. TV man literally bashed one of his trainees…for the world to see….multiple times…. I looked at Angel, AKA “Shit Myself” guy and felt his pain.
TV: Around the world push ups, sumo squats and divebombers
Me: after round 6 of the push ups, I have sweat in places I didn’t know you could sweat. I have begun to shake like one of those tiny ass dogs in the cold. I moan – I FREAKING HATE YOU.
And then he says what I was sure was a lie.
TV: We are 20 minutes in! 40 more to go! Now – side burpees and side plank extensions
Me: Stop all motions cold: The fuck.
TV: continues to blurt out instruction, demonstrating one and then letting his poor minions attempt the hell he has unleashed. “Shit Myself” guy falls – seriously y’all he fell down. “Run For Your Life” girl drops her weights and looks like she might cry.
Me: my limbs are shaking violently and my “small weight” is now too heavy for me to lift with both hands. I mutter with hatred between reps: You. Cheeky. Fucker….
TV: We are 40 minutes in, 20 left!
Me: blink blink
I seriously think I blacked out. I can’t recall the last ten minutes. The next part was on the ground. I collapse to the floor like a sack of potatoes. I begin my whatever the hell move makes you balance on one elbow and part of your foot while doing all crazy stuff with your arm and other leg.
This is when my sweet, precious cat Daisy decides to need love.
Me: NO! Daisy no! Go – leave me alone!
Daisy: if she could talk: Bitch. You look a fool doing this – just stop and pet me because I’m freakin adorable.
She proceeds to lay down under my one arm that is semi supporting my wobbly ass at the moment. Then, she flipped over on her back to show me her furry little belly.
The next few moments were slow motion. I lost concentration – I hit my knee pretty hard, Daisy held fast in her belly up pose and some how, I managed to miss her. The moment I regain composure, she’s run off about her business again. I continue on…
TV: Now – frog leaps…with weights!
Me: What holy hell is this?!?!
I frog leap, which I’ll admit looked more like dead frog jolted by a battery. Then, Daisy appears from nowhere and runs right under my feet. I lose balance. I fall like a tree – I hit hard and I have no capacity to stop myself because my appendages are currently gelatinous mounds of flesh thanks to TV man. Weights flew from my hands and smacked the wall, my knees hit with enough force to completely numb my legs, which then made me scream something incoherent – I’m pretty sure it was profane, but lacked actual word formation. Daisy hisses and runs. I’m balled up in the floor, sweaty, teared up and wondering why I paid money to put myself through this torture.
I look at the screen hoping for redemption – for a chance that I’d made it to the end. Nay. I hear that bastard say, “Bring your best or stop now. Ten minutes left. No excuses!!”
How about I can’t move!?! The hell you say?? I’d rather wait half an hour for a cardio machine in January than do that ever again.
I crawled into the shower, regrouped and poured myself a glass of wine.
Damn you January Gym…..Damn you for showing me you are the boss.
PS – Daisy is fine. Me? I’ll let you know.