Tuesday, May 21, 2013

963. Oh, Great, You Get to See Me Sweaty

I leaned over and groaned.  Why should I have to pick it up?  I wasn’t the one who dropped it.  It must've weighed 40 pounds.  

“Bend your knees!” he shouted. 

From everything I’d read, lifting weights would extend my life, make me stronger, and oh yeah, make me look better, too. 

“I said, bend your knees, MOV!”  
I did as I was told, while I was silently cursing the day I had signed up for my One! Free! Training! Session!  I knew it was a ploy to get me to register for a full month of personal training, but I was a sucker for things that were free. 

Right then, Carla walked by.  You know, Carla?  From the bus stop?  She looked like a cover model for Shape or Fitness magazine:  healthy glow, perfect outfit, cooperative hair. 
I, on the other hand, was wearing wrinkled shorts, a faded t-shirt, and a frayed baseball hat.  I looked like I had been dragged in the mud by wolves.  Wolves with rabies and a mean streak. 

“MOC!” she squealed, getting my name wrong.  “How are you?  I didn’t know you belonged here!” 
“It’s MOV,” I corrected, under my breath, but she had already walked past.  Hers was a drive-by greeting, not meant to be responded to. 
“Shoulders straight, MOV, shoulders straight.” 

I tried to focus and do what Jared said, but it was hard.  There were so many damn mirrors in this place, and none of them were aimed at me. 
Out of my peripheral vision I watched the reflections of the other moms.  I saw Sally from basketball camp.  There was Marina from the PTA.  Danielle from swim class.  Pretty much everyone I had ever met in the past nine years and chatted with about school and sports while waiting for my children all belonged to my new gym. 

I had joined in a hasty moment when I thought it would be good to escape and go sweat and take a break from my reality.  Apparently, 688 local moms had done the exact same thing. 
Except they all looked like Carla—perfect. 

For a brief moment, I thought about dying my hair purple so as to make myself non-recognizable.  The Husband might not respond to that positively, though. 
“Not like that, MOV!  Stop!” interrupted Jared.  “Let me show you the proper form.” 

He demonstrated the lift, and I pretended to pay attention.  Denise belongs to this gym?  And Wendy!? 
“I used to be athletic,” I said to Jared, but more to myself.  “Back when I was … younger.” 

“Everyone says that, MOV, but don’t be so hard on yourself!  You are doing great for someone who is 50.” 
FIFTY!  Did he just say 50? 

“Jared, I am only 44.”  I gave him a look, a look that said, I will definitely not be signing up for a full month of personal training and if I did, it would not be with you. 
“I was rounding up.” 

I studied Jared in the mirror.  How did he not know that an error of rounding up 6 years was punishable by imprisonment, death, being fired, or at least a dirty look from me?
I set the weight down and took a deep breath. 

“MOV, let me get you some water.” 
He disappeared and I stretched like I knew what I was doing. 

Sally walked over to me. 
“Hey, MOV!  I almost didn’t recognize you.”  She smiled genuinely.  “I always see you with your kids, doing the mom thing, and without kids, you just look, so, well … young and unencumbered.” 

I made a mental note to invite her to lunch.  She was my new best friend.


  1. Gosh Dang it Blogger!! It ate my comment. I think.

    Anyway, I had a membership to the Y but cancelled it after just a few months because I always felt so self conscious. Now when I work out (if I work out) I do it in front of the TV with a DVD or the Wii Fit after my husband and kids leave for the day, of course!

    1. Why do we do this to ourselves, the self-conscious part? I wonder if Cindy Crawford ever feels self-conscious?

  2. There's no way I'm working out in front of a bunch of skinny, athletic, perfect people. You are more brave than I, MOV. And that Sally deserves a medal!

    1. I know, right? I am totally buying her lunch. And maybe a big piece of chocolate cake.

  3. LMAO - love this! And the reason I won't go to a gym. Perfectly written. Still smiling!

    1. thanks!!!! awesome. :)


  4. ROFL! I love my Y--in the middle of the day when I go, I'm one of the "young folks"--and I really AM 50! Nothing like watching seniors who can barely move still doing whatever the heck they can to inspire me.

    Oh, and no one I know from my other lives (except my husband) goes there. So no one sees me in my swimsuit, which definitely does not look the same in the mirror as it does in my mind.

    1. Oh, are you saying I should switch and go to a senior gym? I like the way you think.

  5. Been there, done that. Only once (I'm a fast learner) LOL.
    Good luck, keep up the good work!

  6. This is why I only go to the m gym in the middle of the night. Which is very inconvenient when gym is only open during the day.

    1. bwahahahahahaha! you crack me up. (please stop making comments that are funnier than the actual blog post, you are making me look bad and I can do that by myself)


When you write a comment, it makes me feel like I won the lottery or at the very least like I ate an ice-cream sundae. (This has nothing to do with the fact that I did just eat an ice-cream sundae.)