I really don’t know when to shut up. I suffer from the classic foot-in-mouthitis. Kid#1 (keeper/minder/alpha-male/person who thinks he runs the house) was here from Flight school for a couple of months, and I confided in him that I was in awe of J, my female friend, who is also over weight but can squat in perfect yoga stance. I consider it a big achievement if I can fold my feet into a 45 degree angle after a full days work. The upshot of this was that I got talked into enrolling into a local gym for a week trial. It was the dumbest thing I did. I hurt all over. No amount of 6 pack abs and muscled hunks to ogle will make the pain go away. Even my eyelids hurt by now.
Day 1
They suggest I keep this “exercise diary” to chart my progress this week. Started the morning at 6:00 a.m. Tough to get up, but I look forward to having thighs like my DIL. Besides the instructor is a hunk with 6 pack abs and biceps that look like something out of an Arnold Schwarzenegger movie. Nice. I’LL BE BACK!!!! He showed me machines and put me on a treadmill, which I did for 15 minutes and burnt an impressive amount of calories. The aerobics class was cool, enjoyed watching it. He made me do crunches and I actually could do four and a half of them. This is going to be great. Just maybe I’ll get shapely legs and slim thighs and a butt that looks half-way respectable.
Day 2
Took the whole family to get me out of the door, (groan) but I made it. The instructor (I know his name now 
) made me lie on my back and push this heavy iron bar up into the air. Then he put weights on it, for heaven’s sake! Legs were a little wobbly on the treadmill, but I made it the full mile. Muscles feel great.
Day 3
The only way I can brush my teeth is by laying the tooth brush on the counter and moving my mouth back and forth over it. Driving was okay as long as I didn’t try to steer. I nearly jammed into a Scorpio, but I slammed the brakes (my thigh muscles screamed in agony) Puffed and groaned at the darn gym. Could not even face the treadmill, so Herr Hitler put me on the stepper. Why would anyone invent a machine to simulate an activity rendered obsolete by the invention of elevators? They say that regular exercise will make me live longer. Such a horrendous thought.
Day 4
Half an hour late for the gym. The instructor gave me dirty looks. Dude chill okay, I could not even bend to tie my shoes. He tells me ladies my age can do more, if they wish. Those f%$#@ing bi@#es give me a complex anyway. They should be the vamps on saas bahu soaps, they wear make up and bindis to gyms, for godsake!!! Herr Hitler wanted me to do dumbbells. Not a chance unless he wants me to dent the floor. He was still optimistic and put me on the rowing machine. It sank.
Day 5
I hate Herr Hitler. I hate my muscles. I hate the gym. If there was any part of my body not in extreme pain I would hit him with it. He wanted me to do crunches. I have news for you, brother, I don’t have abs. I have jelly and it quivers at the sight of you and the instruments of torture. And if you don’t want dents in the floor don’t hand me any barbells. I refuse to accept responsibility for the damage, you went to sadist school, you are to blame. I could weep, but even my eyelids hurt.
Day 6
Got the receptionist of the gym ringing on my cellphone. Its too heavy, I wont pick it up and answer. I wont even get up but keep staring at the ceiling and sweating through the power cuts. Takes too much effort to even switch on the TV or listen to music.
Day 7
The last day, thank heavens. I would rather walk the dogs, its free and easy. Gyms should be renamed as interrogation/torture cells of Nazi POW camps.
J I love you very much and the parallels in our life are uncanny. Both of us are Litt grads, have two sons and a long distance relationship with our husbands. But there the similarity ends. Sister, I would love to party with you, weep and laugh with you. But you win hands down on the gym thingie. I will never envy your ability to sit cross legged on the floor again.
