i am hopelessly attracted to two men who have shown little more than lukewarm interest in me. Both of these men are VPOP – "virtually perfect on paper" — and (purely coincidentally) both will be out-of-country for at least the next year.
I see this as a sign from God. So I joined a gym.
I figure--I got a year to get hot. Or more correctly: hot – ter.
Now (for those who don't know me) I didn't join Bally's or 23-hour Fitness (remember President's First Lady? My grandma belonged there in '78)…. I've had two children by C-section (if you're a woman you know what I'm talkin' about… I may never wear a bikini again…)… I joined my neighborhood gym: Lifetime Fitness.. it's a ritzy YMCA.
Anyhoo…I've learned a few things from this week at the gym.
1. My body is not as rotund and repulsive as it could be: God bless these people, PUH LEEZ. I just about had to take a Xanex when I thought about putting on workout clothes. I haven't had anything on this tight fitting since Pat Benatar was in the top 20. But I am encouraged by the courage of the people at this gym. There are people at this gym who richard simmons would adopt. I feel within-normal-weight-range here.
2. The Stairmaster is Evil: Have you ever gotten onto one of these things?! ! If you don't repent before your fateful day, I predict you will find yourself handcuffed to a stairmaster for a time dependent on your sin here on earth. The stairs keep coming down, down, down, and you keep climbing. But you get nowhere. By the end of it, you're sweating, your legs are shaky and the thought of a big drink of water makes you want to throw up. --a lot like internet dating, actually--
3. I am a female chauvinist pig: I hate exercise. I love the sauna, but I hate what I have to do to reward myself with it. HOWEVER! I've found a little secret to my torture: there is an elliptical machine strategically located in perfect viewing vacinity of the weight lifting "arena." (Arena meaning 4-walled mirrored area where dudes watch themselves lift dumbbells with scrawny shirts on).I find that if i secure that particular elliptical, I'm able to tread 3 – 4 minutes longer than I do with the dumpy elliptical in front of Fox News (now, get Shep Smith on a pull-up bar, we might be talkin'). It's a stereotype I know, but men in camouflage or full-arm tattoos just work it a little sexier. … sad, but true.
There are other things I've learned while doing my time at the gym: the fountain in the locker room has colder water than the one on the workout floor -- never follow a fat chick into the sauna if she has only one towel -- remember the stall with the dinner-plate showerhead, it makes a difference. And most importantly: don't undress with teenagers around… they will laugh. (another sad but true)
My goal is to shave the fat off this ass and be a woman who men might stalk on myspace. You've seen them: they post pictures of themselves sitting on the edge of a skiboat in a polka-dotta bikini-- they have margaritaville as their song. Bitch-es. Yeah, I want that to be me.
Actually, I'm working out so I can look good at my 20-year high school reunion. How lame is that? Who am I? My mom?! But I've got until mid-october to be 80's era – ish. like a virgin and all that ...
Then again, if just one of those two particular guys gets back next year and goes from lukewarm to tepid … I'm thinking Martha Stewart-style: it's a good thing.
