Working Out

I did a stupid thing. Well, I did a smart thing, then I did a stupid thing. About a year ago, I joined a gym in Bonney Lake. This was the smart thing. I worked out religiously, 3-4 days a week, cardio and weights. I was eating fruit and veggies all summer long and thought I'd dropped a few pounds. Don't know for sure because scales are verboten in my home, so I only went by how my clothes felt. Well, in the fall, I decided I needed a few pairs of pants. I figured I had to have dropped a size. Nope, I had to buy pants 2 sizes larger. I did a blog post about it, called "an exercise in self loathing". I was really, really discouraged. I couldn't bring myself to go back to the gym out of sheer frustration. Then all hell broke loose with our weather and I spent the lion's share of the winter lifting candies and cookies rather than lifting weights. This was the stupid thing.

So the other day I decided I had to get back to the gym. No more excuses!! All the good that I did last summer, such that it was, was completely erased and I am starting from scratch. Which means painfully sore muscles as I get back into the swing of things.

Yesterday I went straight to the gym on my way home from work. Stopping at home is deadly because I'll never go back out, so I change at work before I leave. The cardio and weight machines are on the second floor, so I have to walk the gauntlet past the muscle-head guys doing the free weights downstairs. It's not very comfortable to make that walk, and I keep my eyes ahead, but fortunately they are too busy strutting and preening and looking at themselves in the mirrors to notice anyone else but themselves.

I chose my treadmill, trying to ignore the cruel irony of the Wendy's that happens to be right across from the gym (the smell of fries permeating the air as you walk from your car to the front door of the fitness center is a real test of willpower, let me tell ya). So I start walking on the treadmill, stealing glances around to see who all else is working out at the same time. I am, for the most part, pleased that many of the people in there are middle aged and pretty overweight. But here and there are those annoying spandex covered gym treats who are working out but clearly don't need to be, and setting the bar impossibly high for the rest of us.

I was wearing a pair of shorts that are pretty comfortable, but unfortunately, the faster I walk, the more I can feel a wedgie starting. For those of you in other countries who are not familiar with our American slang, a "wedgie" is when your underbritches start creeping up your ass crack. Have you ever tried to surreptitiously correct this situation? There's really nothing I can do, my back is to everyone else at the gym as the treadmills are right at the windows, and I didn't really want to give the entire place a show if I reach back and pulled them out, so, on I walked, faster and on an increasing elevation. Well, by now, I am walking so fast that my thighs are rubbing together with so much friction that I was afraid I was going to set my shorts on fire. It, also, was not a pleasant feeling. My underwear has now become a thong and my inner thighs are chaffing. So after about a mile or so of distance, I slowed down and came to a stop, then went over and hid behind some weight machines so as to adjust my very uncomfortable situation. Lucky for me no one was paying attention to the fat old broad picking out her wedgie.

Hopefully this year I'll see some results of my working out, and hopefully I'll stick with it over the winter months. No pain, no gain, so they say. But if that is true, judging by the pain in my muscles today, I have gained a lot. Wish me luck!