Gym Confessions: Week Three

Gym Confessions: Week Three

 

I knew there was something off when I went to the cardio area and the other thick-boned girl was still there. Why was she still hanging around? We had this unspoken agreement for one of us to leave whenever the other arrived, as neither of us wanted to draw attention. Yet, there she was, and with a shake of my head I got on with my day suspecting – no, knowing – the third week was going to suck.

Boy, was I right! My P.T. showed me a machine that could have a supporting role in a James Bond movie and asked me, “How do you tuck in your stomach?”

“I wear Spanx,” I said without delay.

She sighed. (Yes, poor thing.)

I asked her if there was a way I could keep my butt and just lose weight in my problem areas (stomach, arms, thighs). This might come as a shock, but there are parts of my body I’d like to keep as is – my derriere, for instance. Wouldn’t that be swell? I visualized myself as a Latin version of Jessica Rabbit.

As it turns out, I have to lose weight ALL AROUND, and tons of it, first. THEN I start to tone EVERYTHING. Phew. That’s a lot of work, folks. I could be writing, working, talking to someone on the phone, or fishing. I’ve never fished a day in my life, but if it kept me from working out, I’d be happy to give it a swing…although I doubt I’d be quiet enough. Okay, so with that in mind, I decided once again to give this workout torture a try.

By the way, I noticed on my stats page that  a large part of my blog audience (yes, all ten of you) is from Russia. Isn’t that awesome? I actually got this email from this Russian girl, Anna, who was looking for American workout tips and somehow ended up on my blog. Is that ironic or what? Anyway, she read my stuff and liked it, and was sweet to say hi. So since Anna was so nice to go through all that trouble, I thought it’d be only fair to share the only thing I’ve learned so far about working out. Are you ready?

If it’s not hurting, it’s not working. This is from someone who did stretches today with something called foam rollers. They look like those colorful, cute spaghetti-shaped floaters kids play with at the pool. But once you slide them underneath your knees and start rolling (slowly, of course), they become a nightmare. J Pretty much every time I’m stretching my arms and legs and it seems too easy, I know it is because I’m not “pressing enough” or “stretching enough.” When I stretch the right way, yes, it hurts. Just when I work out the right way (not slacking and actually increasing the speed and incline on the treadmill), it hurts.

Now it’s time to go back to my writing, where my characters will do another type of working out. J

Until later,

Carmen

Gym Confessions: Week 1 & 2

 

            Disclaimer: For easy reference, please check my early post about my life-changing decision to look 80 by the time I’m 40. Wait. To look 40 by the time I’m 80.

 

            Thanks to the outpouring support of you, my lovelies, and a full-length mirror in my closet, I bit the bullet (and it tasted yucky! I must stop eating everything I see. Damn it.) and started to work with a personal trainer! She’s super sweet and laughs at my jokes – and for that alone, she should get a raise!

            I gotta say, I feel good about it. For four years I paid the gym membership and never really worked out on a consistent basis. But, see, just the fact I paid made me feel like one step closer. Kinda like, I was paying, so if I DID want to go, you know, I could. I always felt one step ahead of the people who didn’t even have the membership. I know, I’m an illogical bullshitter. But with a personal trainer, there’s no denial.

            In my first week, we did a combo of stretches and cardio. I never really do stretches on my own, because in my gym the stretching area is located next to the stairs and in front of a gazillion machines and I feel really exposed. Isn’t that weird? I don’t really care what people think in general, but I HATE to stretch and do all of those things. I get it that no one is looking, but still. I gotta say, though, that they did make a difference. I felt lighter and more prepared for you know, all the suffering that Ellie (my name for the elliptical machine) had for me.

            Week two was ALL about Ellie and her friends. There she stood, waiting for me, all polished, and there wasn’t a drop of sweat on her. But, folks, I thrived. At every step, I closed my eyes and imagined Ryan Gosling waiting for me on the other side. At one point, my trainer asked me to pay attention because I almost slipped off. Whew.

            Well, bear with me. Here I am working out at last, surrounded by skinny folks only. There is the occasional meatier gym member, but whenever I’m coming, she’s leaving and vice versa. I think that’s what the Universe intends, just so we have an equilibrium of fat mass and cholesterol levels. So yeah, I need some fantasies.

          Skinny folks, I gotta say – I have a lot of respect for you. No, really. If I ever turned into one of you, I would totally be the nasty one who says she never works out and eats everything and just has a good metabolism – even if I worked my ass off to be skinny. Yes, I know. I’m petty and evil. The world is probably a better place if I continue to rock as a curvy writer instead.

            On that note, I’ll do some stretches (now that no one is looking) and start writing.

           Until later,

           Carmen :)

 

           

In Which I’m 63 Years Old (and Four Months)

 

 

I have always thought of myself as an old soul. I’ve always enjoyed vintage French music, going out at night and getting drunk was never my thing, and yes, I had arthritis at twenty-seven.

Well, last week I did a fit point assessment test at my gym. Basically, based on a few tests, they tell you how old your body REALLY is. The suspense nearly killed me. 50? 80? I settled for 60. Well, friends, the verdict is out: my body is 63 years and 4 months old. Yes.

I’m 30, and my body is going all Benjamin Button on me!

Anyway, now I have the backup I’ve always needed. It turns out that I’m an old soul AND an old body. So the question is whether I should just enjoy my twilight years or go against nature and work out to try to shed some years.

The overly Botoxed personal trainer didn’t quite appreciate my humor when I asked her if I could get a senior citizen discount for the sessions. But, c’mon, take it from someone who’s clearly a prodigy at aging —I’ve always wanted to stay ahead of the game, so at least bone-structure wise I’m DECADES ahead of any of my friends. I’m probably even ahead of my mom, because she’s always exercised. Boo!

Although I love the practicality of a sedentary life, I have thought long and hard and have decided to take some personal trainer sessions, so I’d at least LEARN how to use machines to strength my muscles and keep my joints from deteriorating. Maybe by the time I’m 40, I can resemble a well-aged 80 year old. No, folks, my expectations aren’t high.

Plus, on the upside (yes, I always look for one), I’m sure the sessions will give me enough material to blog for the next few months. LOL. No, really! J

Anyway, that’s all! Off to the Elliptical now (I’ll be calling her Ellie in a couple of weeks. We’ll be good friends—until Ellie starts to bore the hell out of me).

Until later,

Carmen :P