The Elephant In The Room

I officially broke off my relationship with Sven. His B.O. was starting to get to me and I was totally cheating on him anyway. Somehow in the process of my Wii-cheating, I gained back all the weight I had previously lost. I am back at the starting gate.

So, out of sheer deperation, I joined a gym. A real, true, brick and mortar gym where you actually pay to work out. (I still can't quite wrap myself around the fact that I am paying to be miserable and in pain.) But, I did it. I now have my own little bar code scanny thing and I am off and running. (Well, briskly walking)

Yesterday was my first official "day at the gym." And today, every ounce of my body hurts in such a way that typing this blog is causing me mild agony.

The morning started out with the normal paperwork, background check, fingerprinting, and drug test. (Seriously, do you have to know the exact brand of birth control I am on for me to walk on your treadmill?) The lovely woman working the counter looked so fabulous in her spandex and polar fleece, that I couldn't help but be nice and answer all her silly questions. (Apparantly when you have a low percentage of body fat, you get cold very easily. Thanks for that info. I will sleep so much better tonight.)

My wonderful employees chipped in last year and bought me a month-long membership to the gym that is in our building. Well, that was a over a year and a half ago according to Kitty. (I named the front desk lady "Kitty" because she never introduced herself and Kitty just seemed to fit better than Barbie.)

"What took you so long?" Kitty asks me in her very nice I'm-skinnier-than-you'll-ever-be voice.

"Well, I've been very busy," I reply ever so sweetly.

She looks me up and down with a sly smile on her face and I swear I am telepathic because I could hear her saying "yeah, busy eating oreos." But, her mouth never moved. Perhaps I am just bitter. Imagine that.

She proceeds to walk me around and show me all the various machines, and how they work. I really don't remember what any of them are called because in my mind, there are only two types of exercise machines - the elliptical, and anything that is not the elliptical.

I started off with a 30 minute brisk walk on the treadmill. (One of the friendly non-elliptical machines.) I was quite proud of my pace until a 70 year old woman with flame red hair got on the treadmill next to me and totally starting showing me up. And do you know how I know that she is 70? She told me. While - she - was - running. That ol' bitty can exercise and talk at the same time. She is my hero.

So, after the treadmill, I went to the bikes. (Another safe non-eliptical machine.) I pedaled like a maniac for a full 10 minutes, and then I had to move to another machine because the seat gave me an excruciating wedgie. (Can anyone tell me how to discreetly yank out a wedgie in a room full of mirrors without pulling a muscle? Enquiring minds want to know.)

I went to another non-eliptical machine called the orbital or something like that. (I really wasn't paying attention to all the names but I told Kitty that I hated the elliptical more than men in speedos, so she assured me that this was NOT an elliptical, but it was more like a stair climber, but without the pressure on the joints.)

Ok, so one of the first lessons I learned that day is that Kitty doesn't know what the hell she is talking about. I renamed that non-elliptical machine the "Flaming Thighs From Hell" machine. Non-elliptical my fanny. OK, so maybe there isn't the cross-country ski motion thing happening, but you still get the same feeling of going nowhere fast. All the while your thighs are creating so much heat that they are likely to set your pants on fire. I think I hate this machine even more than the elliptical.

But the sad part is that Flame-Haired Granny was again on the machine next to me and she was totally kicking my ass (while telling me all about the last episode of brothers and sisters.) I told myself that I could last the entire 10 minutes that I programmed in. Well, I lasted 7 minutes and 36 seconds. And, when I went to step off the machine, I literally couldn't feel my legs. I swear I was walking on two stacks of jello. My legs were actually jiggling in places I have never seen before. But, somehow, I managed to walk out the door. (And then I crawled to the elevator because no one was around to see me.)

Well, today there is a large, invisible elephant between my legs that is making it impossible for me to function. He literally is everywhere. I can't close my legs. I can't walk in a straight line. And, my thighs and calves have actually started to bend around the darn elephant so I am walking bow-legged. Even peeing is painful. I truly feel the sensation as though I am straddling a 2 ton elephant. (Not that I have ever straddled a 2 ton elephant, but this is how I have always imagined that it would feel.)

So, what's a girl to do? I certainly can't give up after one day. Kitty is expecting me at 8:15. She wants to follow up and see how my first day went. What do I do? Can I call in on my second day?

Well, I am having 2 vicodin and a xanax with my coffee. My plan is to strut bow-leggedly through the door and let Kitty's skinny little ass know that I am ready for day #2. I will keep you all posted. However, if Flame-Haired Granny tries to chat with me again today, there is a very good chance that you will find her treadmill-burned body in the dumpster out back.