The Gym

Wine in my water bottle, a cigarette in hand, on my laptop facebooking away with an open bag on Doritos next to me... of course I am wearing the sweatsuit and sneakers I bought to go to the gym but really- they are not looking for people like me; or are they...



My attempt at the gym starts with the poster on the door that reads, "getting here is half the battle" (okay, I'm here- can I sit down, the walk from my car to the door was exhausting). And let's talk about the smell- just pure sweat- so far the only glimmer of hope is the snack bar I spot out of the corner of my eye. Sadly, I am informed there are no nachos and cheese or bags of chips just something called protein shakes and any kind of bran product you can think of. So I push forward, up the stairs (where are the elevators) off to the track.



Okay, I can walk, I do it all day long- back and forth in the house. I start walking and BOOM, BOOM, BOOM- there go the runners- overachievers! Anyway, here I am on my way to good health, happiness, a thin me and all that BS they try to sell you when you get sucked in to a gym membership. Apparently I believed this because here I am. Walking, walking...one lap then two, then three- hey I can do this until my sister says, "okay you warmed up?"

Warmed up?! For what...



We hit the treadmills. I get a good pace going at 2.5 miles per hour. My sister starts running- 6 miles per hour- oh well, I can step it up- 2.8 here I come. Great, here comes little miss thin mint on the other side of me. But she is only walking too- I glance over. 3.5 mph- oh Jesus. Fine I'll step it up- 3.3mph. I can do that. 3 minutes in I feel the need to check my heart rate- 120! It hasn't been that high since labor! I am really working up a sweat- I'm doing great! I look at how many calories I've burned- 30 calories. I don't think I've burned off a breath mint let alone the McDonald's value meal I had for lunch. Okay, keep going- all I can think is what am I gonna eat for dinner- pork chops, mashed potatoes and Oreos for dessert- sounds good to me.



I make it through 30 minutes of "cardio" and my sister insists on crunches. Listen, two kids later and this baby belly is as permanent as my tattoos- but fine. So I do a set of 10, then another and another. I try to get up and lay back down. I tell my sister to leave me behind. When did a healthy, vital 20 something become an aching 30 something? ouch.

I finally pick myself up and we head home.



"So we'll go again on Wednesday?"



"Sure. What Wednesday next year do you want to go..."