Some of you might be surprised to hear that I recently joined a gym. And I pretty much hate it and going there and the idea of it and everything about it. I went there because they have this great babysitting place where you leave your kids while you "work out," as they say. Of course, Ben hates going there and the people there and the gym in general just as much as I do and, it really must be said, even more than he hates church. Additionally, my sister mentioned to me that a kid got molested in the child care area of a gym somewhere I think in Arizona--so if there is ever a day when I kind of don't feel like putting on exercise-wear and going into a building where other people can watch me get out of breath (pretty quickly) and perspire I just think of that and (because I am a very good and conscientious mom) I stay home.
When I went to the gym a man named Brandon gave me a tour and told me about the facility. They "wipe the equipment down," as they say, like every 20 minutes or something but "we do ask you to bring your own work-out towel." What for? I wanted to understand the process because I am new. I mean, I see people with them around their necks--was he saying I had to do that? Because I can't see myself doing that. No. He wasn't. Was I supposed to sit/lay/stand on the towel? No. Was I supposed to wipe off the machines if I got sweat on it? Because I don't mind. But he had just said they wiped them off themselves and were renowned for their cleanliness. He couldn't answer my questions. I'm happy to comply with the towel rule, but I don't want to look like an idiot who doesn't know what to do with my towel. Having said that, I'm not going to walk around with a towel around my neck like I'm some kind of regular gym-person. I can't--I won't.
Brandon wanted to talk about my membership. He kept asking me about my goals. I refused to answer such a personal question. He showed me things and told me about options. I couldn't help but laugh. "Yeah, I just don't see myself doing that." This was, I think, with regard to stretching out on their special mats. I noticed a hand-markered sign on the bulletin board behind Brandon's desk. It read "Brandon is the most amazing." I said, "so you're the most amazing?" Brandon seemed embarrassed and shrugged, "Apparently." Later I noticed the fine print at the bottom of the sign: "You have the best hieny. Seriously--it is GOOD." Um. Weird.
While I was talking to Brandon I saw a friend from high school--I actually really like this guy. Ok, it was Jim Blair. Brandon was all, "All right! See? This is going to be a party for you!" Brandon doesn't know me very well if he doesn't know that the possibility of running into people I know at a gym is not a selling point. Jim mentioned my blog when I saw him and for a second I thought that if the gym could become a forum for discussion of my blog I could really get into it but I just know it would never happen to the extent that I want. And then I felt disappointed. I signed the paperwork for Brandon. "Are you excited?" he questioned. "No, I actually kind of hate the whole idea."
Later I met with a delightful woman named Lani for a sort of assessment before I could get started. She asked all kinds of personal questions too--about my goals. "I don't want to talk about it," I told her. She was unsatisfied with this and got me to admit that my goal is to lessen the effects of my impending migraine-induced stroke. THAT SHUT HER UP! Then she totally tricked me into getting measured and bending in front of her. Brandon had told me that was what you did if you paid for a personal trainer and I said that, if that was the case, I most certainly did not want one. So Lani chuckles--"Oh yeah, Brandon said you didn't want to do this." "What else did he say about me?" I demanded. Let 'em laugh in my face I don't care--when I was bending for her she asked me to try to keep my heels on the floor and I didn't even try very hard to keep them down and then I told her that I didn't even try very hard to keep them down. They'll probably talk about that too. So they just sit around and talk about me and examine each other's hienys? I mean--you see why I hate it, right?
Long story short, I'm really into sculpting my body now. Expect results when you see me. I mean it is GOOD.