I have “embarked” on a new adventure of sorts.
Maybe I should call it a new hobby.
I don’t know. Whatever. A thing.
Anywho, I’ve decided to write a 3 part post about how much I hate the elements of my new hobby thing.
I participate in said adventure-hobby-thing out of guilt, boredom and masochism…not necessarily in that order.
My new hobby is…wait for it…fitness.
Yes. I said fitness.
So let me make it perfectly clear, I do not like going to the gym or the act of working out. In fact I hate it. I even stated in a past post that my resolution was explicitly NOT to lose weight. Which is, technically, still true. I merely want to be considered, “Slightly less lazy than I was XX days/weeks/months/years ago.”
Simple as that.
I saw fit to begin torturing myself in 3 very specific ways, hence the three part post. My cruel and unusual tactics used on myself are: The Gym, Yoga, and Running.
I know. It goes against everything I (and apparently Mitt Romney*) stand for: Capitalism, Instant gratification, and Freedom to eat whatever I damn well please! No it really does. I stated in front of my marketing class that, in my custom Nike running shoes, “…You will never catch me running!” <– You see what I did there?! It’s a double entendre!
So yea. While currently wallowing in self-pity (read: self-loathing) for being unemployed, I figured there is no excuse why I shouldn’t be at the gym. I mean it’s not like I don’t have the time…
Plus, my sister has a perfectly good membership she is paying for and was letting go to waste! #TeamWasteNotWantNot!!!
So, without further adieu, please enjoy part 1 of a 3 part adventure series entitled: “The Fitness Misfit.” <– Trust me, it’s aptly named. I’m the worse.
You know, it’s not the gym, itself, per se, that I don’t like. The self-inflicted torture hole I go to is actually really cute.
I guess cute.
I mean it isn’t purple and yellow themed with rows upon rows of stationary cardio equipment. It also doesn’t tempt your post-workout will power with sugary nostalgic FREE tootsie rolls (side eye), but it gets the job done I suppose.
It’s not the building that I have a problem with. It’s not the setup. It’s nothing having to physically do with the gym.
Nope. Nothing to do with it at all.
My problem is mental. Very mental.
Am I the only person who has to mentally prepare for the gym 2 hours prior to actually physically walking through the gym doors?!
I talking full on whining, bitching and complaining, complete with limp rag doll like body on the couch and heavy loud sighing.
Really? Are you fooling yourself into thinking you are invisible? Hmm? Are you hoping your brain doesn’t see you?
News flash self: I can see you!!! And we need to get our ass of this couch. NOW!
More to the point, why is all that internal self-fighting necessary!?
I mean c’mon really how many damn times can anyone watch the same news loop on CNN or BBC World News with out legitimately beginning to wonder if you are stuck in a Groundhog Day scenario? Especially if you do this EVERYDAY!
It’s frustrating. And I’m sure many of you twenty-nothings out there, much like myself, understand.
And those of you who don’t…WELL GOOD THE F*CK FOR YOU!!!<– I’m sorry. Not really.
So to break the monotony, I go to the gym 5-6 time a week, which, ironically, adds to the monotony!!! #Winning!
What you all should know about me, if you do not have the pleasure of knowing me personally, is that I am extremely, extremely picky and specific about almost everything I do. I mean really specific and really picky.
Drives people insane.
For instance, before I gave up crack– I mean Starbucks, I always got a Grande, non-fat, caramel macchiato with extra caramel. Sometime with whip, sometimes without, but usually with. Once I got my order, I would go over to the little fixin’s bar and proceed to add the following to my cup, IN THIS SPECIFIC ORDER: cinnamon, vanilla power (preferably the Barnes and Noble kind, not the Starbucks kind, because the B&N version had the black specs of vanilla and seemed to better understand the necessary vanilla experience required in my drink. <– Don’t judge me.) and half of 2 of a sugar in the raw packets. That’s right half of 2 packets!!! Yes, I know logic tells us that I should have just used one complete packet, but it isn’t the same, dammit!!
IT JUST ISN’T THE SAME!!!<– Shenanigans like this are exactly why Starbucks’ operating costs are skyrocketing and they charge $3 for an iced tea you could get from Dunkin’ Donuts for a third of that. Oh, I’m sorry, you’re right, it’s not Tazo. OH, YOU’RE TOO GOOD FOR LIPTON NOW, HUH!?! Silly me. BTW, the Tazo in the fridge case is CHEAPER than the one they brew for you. #Justsaying.
Anywho, I know you all are like, “Did you have fun on your neurotic stroll down memory lane? How’s the air up there on your soapbox?”
Apologies. I’m merely trying to convey to you that I am a Type-A, 100%, and I need to be in control of everything…you know in case that wasn’t already obvious in the way that I think you all really want to hear what it is that I have to say or what I do in my life…all 7 of you.
Now, just like my coffee order, I have to prepare for the gym in the same way. If anything goes wrong, THAT’S IT! I’m not going.
I will throw a whole tantrum inside, and will remain on the couch with my feet on the coffee table watching Criminal Minds and Say Yes to the Dress.
By the time I make that decision, I’m so over it.
I think of my going to the gym like a NASA mission. If one thing on the checklist is missing, then the mission will be a disaster of epic proportion.
- Fully Charged iPod- I am firmly against brining my cell phone to the gym. I HATE those people who hold full blown conversations while huffing and puffing on the treadmill. Or better yet, NOT, huffing and puffing. Just taking a leisurely stroll on your neighborhood treadmill, huh? What do you think this is?! Club Med?! NO! This is war and, from what I’m told by CNN and BBC World News, war is hell!! Get off the effin’ phone! I also don’t bring my phone to the gym because I have an awful bout of Facebox addiction and ADD as a result of my MBA! Soo yea. I need all the focus I can get. Plus, I hate the manic radio stations the gym chooses to blast throughout the building. One minute it’s 80 rock, next minute it’s Madonna, then it’s Puff Daddy and the Family, then all of a sudden Rhianna found love and Drake is talking about YOLO and Adele is still rolling in the deep. Nope. #Icant.
- Black Hanes Fit Socks- I now understand what the dad in the Hanes commercial was talking about. These socks are a gift for God. Yup. I said it. A gift from God (or your personal being of higher power or, for my Atheist friends, magic! But good magic like Dippin’ Dots, not bad magic like Chris Angel…just so we’re clear.). These socks are perfect. They do not move around in your sneakers, even when you DON’T untie your shoes to put them on! I KNOW!!! #Amazing! For a while I thought Fruit of the Loom had Hanes beat. I mean, c’mon, they had singing fruit…although singing fruit hasn’t been quite as entertaining since the days of the California Raisins, but, I suppose, that’s neither here nor there. I MUST have these $11.42-exclusively-sold-at-Target socks. See your local retailer for the mind blowing details.
- Apple Headphones w/ Remote Control- I LOVE these headphone. They are the original earbuds that come standard with any iPhone or iPod Touch, and I love them. I know most people hate them, but the problem with me is that Apple does no wrong in my purview. NONE. Never mind that whoever these alleged “ergonomically” designed headphones are supposed to fit, with such LARGE ear canals (?), they do not fit into my strangely small (maybe normal) ear canals of my already small and slightly pointed ears. Anyway, I like these headphones because I don’t have to constantly touch my iPod to change the volume from Loud to Hearing Loss while watching Dr. Phil or The Food Network (side eye, because it’s always, ALWAYS, Guy Fieri eating Paula Dean’s love child of food coated in fat and butter.) or Ellen or SportsCenter.
- Orbit Sweet Mint Gum- I always like to have gum. I don’t know what it is about gum. I don’t know what it is about this particular flavor or brand. But it’s my favorite. I always have it. It’s like I’m trying to kick the habit or something. I have even made friends over this gum (Don’t believe me!? How do you think I met #1 RI BFF?! She had a dirty mouth. KIDDING!! Totally kidding. She’s gonna kill me…It’s
stillnot funny, though.). I just love this gum. I am a company’s dream because I am extremely brand loyal! EXTREMELY. I need the gum because my mouth gets so freakin dry without it, so I try to relieve some of my suffering with the small things. I currently have 2 packs of gum in my car that are strictly dedicated to my gymmin’ it. That’s it. That is “gym gum” in the car. My sister doesn’t touch it when she gets in because she knows I’ll freak out because, yes, I know exactly how many pieces are in there. Don’t mess with my Sweet Mint Orbit. I’ll go medieval all over your ass and won’t think twice about it.
- Blistex (in the blue container)- Ladies you know what I’m talking about. I need the Blistex that you have to dunk your finger in and apply manually. For some reason when I workout my lips get all dry and ick. I look like Pookie from the Dave Chapelle skit (Don’t do me.). So I need something with some staying power. If I run out, then I use Cherry Chapstick, but it doesn’t have the same, eh, sticktoitiveness as the Blistex. In a real pinch, I wear Victoria Secret’s lip gloss. I don’t know what they put in that stuff, but every thing sticks to it! EVERYTHING! Ugh. But it does smell delish.
So yea. THAT’S the checklist. I don’t think it’s extensive. Neurotic. According to my cousin, with a psych degree, yes. Extremely neurotic. However, it helps me get myself together. I don’t know if other people have these little things that they need to be right before they go to the gym. I’d like to think I’m not alone, but then again, I’m nuts, so I wouldn’t be surprised if I’m in a class of 1. However, I’m not kidding, if anything is wrong with any of these elements, then you will find me on the couch. Eating apple slices with organic peanut butter, watching Criminal Minds. #StoneColdChillin.
Assuming that all the aforementioned things go as planned, I always get dressed half an hour before I intend to show up to the gym. I know how I am and how I can get preoccupied with the dumbest stuff to avoid going to the gym. Anything will distract me. Including getting dressed for the gym, which is why I allow ample time for me to do so. <– FYI: Don’t wear bikini style underwear to the gym. Just don’t. They are a wedgie waiting to happen. I found out the hard way. Ugh so annoying. Listen, I don’t care what people think, I will be rocking my granny panties to ensure there is no wedgie-like activity! I do not care. #VPLPower!!! LOL You’re welcome for that.
I would like to take this time to share with you all that I have never had any reoccurring sports injuries. I mean I did break my ankle while playing township softball and sprained my ankle trying to get off an elliptical in HS (I told my tennis coach that I did not trust that machine…), but I never had restrictions for activity based on these injuries once they healed. Note none of these problems are knee issues. I have never had knee problems. Ever (knock on wood). But for some strange reason when I pull into the gym parking lot, my right knee starts aching.
W. T. F!?
Again, I have never had a serious knee injury in my life…but I have knee pain when I pull into the gym…?
No. It’s my body signaling to me that it does not want to do this. My subconscious has created Phantom Knee Pain to keep me from doing stuff.
It happens all the time.
Facing those long flights back to the US, my knee, back and neck start to ache when the seatbelt sign comes on. Yet, miraculously, stops when the sign goes off at cruising altitude.
Really? This is how we’re gonna play this? Making up fake pains? That is so beneath you.
But my body is so serious.
Like dead ass type serious.
It sticks to its fake pain, as I walk from the car, across the parking lot, up the stairs and through the front door of the gym. Throbbing as I give one of the guys at the front desk my membership card, seemingly whining as I fill my water bottle at the fountain and kicking the theatrics into overdrive as I walk up the stairs to get to the cardio machines. My knee then gets the little voice in my head going, and it tells me to, “just go home,” as I proceed to untangle my headphones, and find my cardio playlist. After collecting my thoughts, I have everything set, I step onto the elliptical, put my gum in my mouth, crank up the Holy Mother of Ratchet (No, no, the OTHER holy mother of ratchet, Rihanna, not Nicki.), then, all of a sudden, the pain stops and…
IT’S GO TIME.
Speak your mind…
Stay tuned for part 1.2- People of the Gym.
*Note: Allow me to be perfectly clear, I do NOT agree with any of Romney’s politics, but man is he RICH!