I love going to the gym. It makes me feel good. Physically and mentally. Four hours a week...all to myself. While I'm rocking out to Rhianna I can simultaneously strive for a rockin' bod and take a mental break from the day and just let my mind wander...
But today it didn't get very far...
Please, someone tell me what is the deal with the girls coming to the gym with the perfectly coiffed hair and full face of make-up? I know, I know...you are going to tell me they are just coming from the office. No my friend. Not these girls...I mean, maybe they are, but I know a newly applied layer of MAC and Pantene Extra-Hold when I see it. They are all decked out in their little matching spandex ensemble...shorty shorts and glorified bra. Boobs for miles; and yeah, we get it... your thighs don't touch. Please rub it in while I'm threatening to start an electrical fire over here on the treadmill from all the friction MY thighs are producing. Way to make me insecure in my oversize t-shirt, running shorts, mis-matched socks, lucky I even brushed my teeth. And don't remind me about putting a sports bra on a pair that nursed a very hungry little boy for five months. That is a disappearing act that even Copperfield can't top. It's really a moot point.
Um...anyway...back to what I was bitching, er, saying.
Someone please fill me in on their secret on how they manage not to sweat when they work out. Nay a hair misplaced. They could literally go from LA Fitness to the stage of the Miss Georgia pageant and not shower (or re-do their hair, for that matter). I leave that place looking like a pre-pubescent boy who just had his round in the dunk tank at the school carnival. My 5 year old oversize "Peachtree Road Race" t-shirt soaked. My hair matted and dripping.
I mean, isn't it bad enough that they take up all the prime elliptical real estate, parking their perky, spandex wrapped asses in front of Dancing With the Stars and I'm stuck with Nancy Grace squawking about "the twins". I swear, everytime she says "Caylee Anthony" (courtesy of the closed captioning) I increase my incline...now there is a hard workout. Who needs a personal trainer when you have an ongoing saga in Orlando and the most worthless "journalist" that ever existed to update with every waking detail.
Oh, and newsflash...you aren't working out hard enough if you can leisurely flip through this week's US Magazine. On the contrary, I had two pieces of pizza and macaroni and cheese (for lunch) today, so move over, make room for Heather, her sweaty self, and Rhianna. And thank you for the motivation, and Nancy Grace for the kick butt workout.
6 comments:
Suddenly my sweet Mom friend lets loose...I love it. But you forgot to mention the meat head men who carry around gallon jugs of water (that they don't drink.)
Too funny and well written! Guess the bloggers block is over - watch out for Heather! Good for you for working out! I haven't touched a gym in 8 years and haven't been "in shape" in 3... ;-)
Sure, but Cathleen is busy in her living room working out with Denise Austin...ha ha!
I love this post! I SO relate. If you'll remember way back when, I was the only cheerleader looking worse than the football players at the end of the games. Sweat soaked uniform, frizzy ponytail, racoon eyes...yeah, that was me. And still is.
I was next to a girl on the treadmill today that was on her phone THE WHOLE TIME. How can you possibly work out when yapping away.
Couldn't agree with you more :)
Lindsay
this is definintely my favorite post of your's yet. so funny! it's those gym girls that made me just cancel my membership all together. between the boobs and spadex and the obnoxious high school boys, my gym time was stressing me out more than getting the stress out of me! i decided long walks/jogs with hannah was a better way to go. of course this means actually loading her and to stroller up to go on the walk, so we get to it usually twice a week. keep it up though... at least you're getting a good workout in! :)
Your so hard core Mom.
Post a Comment