Tuesday, November 22, 2011
I'll be hitting the town this Saturday night (with a more reliable friend than last weekend!) and this is what I'll be wearing:
I just realized I'll be wearing the same size as the model!
Where's the Little Black Dress emoticon?
Couldn't find one, so I'll just use one that shows the big, strong men who will be hitting on me!
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Most of my workout wardrobe are clothes that I wore to my weekly fitness class in high school. There is also a pair of (probably knock-off) Adidas pants that I bought at a weird department store in a developing country. Oh, and my sports bras are from Walmart a few years ago.
All the cool girls wear Lululemon to exercise. Ninety-dollar sweatpants, hundred-dollar hoodies (if you can get them on sale!), etc. "But they last so loooong!" Ummm... I'm still wearing crap I got at Winners in high school, and I exercise five days a week.
That being said, exercising five days a week is taking a toll on my wardrobe. Or, more accurately, my energy bill, because I keep having to do laundry. So today I popped into Real Canadian Superstore (Loblaws for y'all out east) and grabbed a bunch of Joe Fresh workout wear. I got three pairs of leggings, three workout tops (two with built-in bra) and an extra sports bra for ninety dollars. And I had a coupon for ten dollars off, so I paid eighty. Eighty dollars for three complete workout outfits. Eighty bucks might get me a pair of Lulu shorts... or, more likely, socks!
I can't wait to work out in my new purple pants! And you'll probably see me wearing them in the retirement home fifty years from now!
Sunday, November 20, 2011
A friend did some very unfriendly things last night. I met a guy and when I went to the washroom, she basically propositioned him. Then she bailed on our mutual plans and left with him, accidentally taking my purse with my keys. Yup, she took my man, and my car and house keys. (I know he's not "my man" but it had a nice rhythm to it.) Now she's texting me saying both "it was an AWESOME night" and "I owe you big time- sorry". Are you joking?
So how do I deal with my seething anger? I hit the gym. However, I didn't just want to take out my aggression through cardio. Nope, I wanted to make sure that I was even thinner than her. I'm already thinner than her, but with more cardio I can make our weight gap even wider.
That is the least healthy thinking possible. And I know it. But I have a feeling that for the next week, I will be powering through my workouts knowing that each step, each jump, each lift puts me one step ahead. And then, when I feel amazing, I'll do the responsible thing and talk about it with her like an adult. Just not yet.
The moral of this story is that if you don't want to end up in a secret weight-loss competition with me, you're going to have to treat me with some basic respect!
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Every week I go to a bootcamp class that is ninety minutes, and the gym has it labelled "Intermediate/Advanced". When I started it felt impossible, but now I find it comfortably challenging.
This morning I decided to drop in for a class called "Muscle Works". It was only sixty minutes, and it was labelled "Intermediate". I figured I could definitely handle it- it's shorter and not even "advanced" like my regular Monday class.
My first thought upon entering (with little time to spare... parking was terrible and the roads were icy!) was that the people in the class looked abnormally fit relative to the people I normally see at drop-in classes. Then the instructor started to explain the stations, and I began to get a little bit concerned. When she set up a "list" of who each person should follow to the next station, I became extremely concerned. And when I got to my first station and picked up the medicine ball, I thought, "WHAT HAVE I GOT MYSELF INTO?"
It turned out to be the first nausea-inducing workout I've had since I originally joined the gym in 2009 (and even then I think I was nauseous from the 6:00 am time slot of my classes, not the intensity). We were doing things that no human body is supposed to do. And NOBODY was finding it easy. There was swearing. LOTS of it. There was panting. There was grunting. People that I've seen around the gym before, looking all cute in their workout clothes on the treadmill, looked like they were about five minutes away from death. I felt sorry for them, until I remembered that as one of only three people new to the class (of about twenty) I probably looked worse.
One-legged step-ups with six risers under the step, passing a twenty-pound medicine ball to someone on the other bench each time you step up? Normal instructors only make us put two risers under our benches. And we don't have to throw medicine balls! And we alternate our stepping legs! Balancing precariously with your feet on a high step and your arms on parallel bars, doing push ups, then swinging across to another riser and doing tricep dips? #$#@ !$#&* #!! What the **** is "intermediate" about that move? And an absurdly difficult exercise: laying a towel on the floor, bending over and putting both hands on it, then pushing it to the other side of the gym and back in a "why is this so hard?" bent-over running interval!
So, it was hard. And I was feeling a little sick. And I got to one of the step-up stations, where I was tossing this gigantic ball to a huge, muscular man on the opposite side of the bench, and I'm not going to lie- his sweat was flying off his body and all over me- and then the guy was like, "I need to slow down." So we slowed down. And then he said, "I need to stop." What did I do? I said, "I'm sorry." Because I thought he was stopping to give me a break. He must have thought I was too tired and weak to go on.
And then I got to another station. Sitting on a high step (about eight risers underneath) and standing up on one foot- always the same foot- to toss a big fat medicine ball to the person on the other bench. One-legged squat tosses or something. And I once again found myself face-to-face with a man. With muscles. Who could probably bench press me. And we squatted on our single feet and tossed the god-forsaken medicine ball and we grimaced and we made mean faces... and then he had to stop. Once again, I knew it was because he thought I couldn't go on. The new girl, her first week, don't let her pass out!
I made it through the class. In fact, when I was finished, I was so pumped on adrenaline that I went up and did an easy thirty-five minutes on the treadmill (incline walking... no running for me!). Then I had a great stretch. When I was back in the change room and opening my locker, this sudden revelation just washed over me.
Maybe those men really couldn't do it anymore.
Maybe... despite their muscles and their height and their experience... maybe they couldn't step up one more time. Maybe they couldn't throw the ball. Maybe they weren't pitying me.
Maybe I could have done one more step-up than Mr. Muscles.
Maybe I could have passed the ball one more time than Mr. Big.
They didn't get that big and strong by giving up and going easy just for the sake of being polite. They got that big and strong by pushing themselves to their limits.
Maybe they reached those limits. Before me.
Maybe it wasn't all about me.
If you're looking for me next Saturday morning, be sure to check the gym!
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
I currently have 10,124 fitness minutes. This is equal to more than seven days! Yup, that's a week! That's seven days! That's one hundred and sixty-eight hours! Ten thousand, one hundred and twenty-four minutes. Or six hundred and seven thousand, four hundred and forty seconds!
This "week" of exercise includes time in early 2010, when I first caught the Spark, and time since July 24th of this year, when I was "re-Sparked". It's crazy to think I've spent the equivalent of seven days exercising.
What could I have done with a week? Eaten a lot of licorice! Watched a lot of reality television! Painted each one of my fingernails and toenails a different color... and layered a different sparkly top coat on top of each as well! I could have gone to the mall! Or read the Twilight series! I could have changed the burned out light bulbs in my house (okay, maybe not... I can't reach even with a ladder!). But no... I chose to spend that WEEK exercising!
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