Sweat and tears (from laughter of course)

I have decided that this self love/discovery journey I’m on can’t just be primping and prepping. A person only needs so many pair of jeans, and cans of dry shampoo. There needs to be some nitty gritty work being done too. Digging deep into the trenches and getting it done. Sweat and tears sort of thing.

What better way to do that then to join a gym? Now I’ve joined a gym twice, maybe three times before. The problem was I enjoyed walking around with the key membership card, so it looked like I went to the gym, more than actually going to the gym. My son the natural athlete goes to the local gym for sports classes. He’s been bugging me to the point of insanity for a membership. I finally caved, and here I am with a new key card.

My first visit was on a weekend. I made Chuck and Brogan go with me. My idea of a trip to the gym is 2 miles on the treadmill and I’m out. There I was with my unbranded AirPods feeling a bit badass, of course until they wouldn’t connect to my phone. Brogan saved the day, and let me use his. It was a good 5 minutes before they died too. No 90’s hip hop to get this ass moving. That 2 miles looking a 3 big screen tv’s with closed caption took forever.

About 5 years ago I had joined a gym with super high expectations. I took a few Zumba classes with some friends and it was a blast. We laughed and danced, it was almost like happy hour but without the drinks. I decided that I was ready to graduate to the “big” gym. I even had a free consult with a personal trainer. This is where the story starts to turn. I thought it would entail her showing me how to use the machines and what I could utilize to help my trouble spots. Nope, it entailed a physical fitness type test. She wanted to see where I was “physically”. I could have saved her some time and me some serious embarrassment if I would have just stopped then. She put me through the ringer. I mean, my arms were jelly, my legs were shaky, and I thought I might throw up. One last thing to do and we’d be done, Hallelujah. She wanted me to plank. I had never planked before. So there I was, exhausted, sweaty and planking on the gym floor. Apparently my body didn’t feel that the reasons above were enough to be embarrassed. Right there it happened, I farted. Not a sneaky one that I might have been able to pass off as a sneaker squeak, but a full blown loud man fart. For the record, I did not die even though I was convinced I would. However I did not return. That kind of shit is what has built my character.

I had last Monday off so I thought I’d go do my 2 miles during the day, instead of at night. I got ready in my new Amazon leggings, grabbed my water bottle and Addisons pink wireless headphones, because I wasn’t doing that again. There is was busting it out. Something about blasting Lizzo through 5Below headphones gets me moving. I was feeling so good that I decided when I was done with my walk I was going to ask for some help with the machines. Of course I can’t go 30 minutes without having to pee. 3 kids and gravity will get me every time. I went to the bathroom and pulled down my grey leggings and BAM, it looked like I pissed myself. For a second I had to wonder if I did. First of all I had no idea that was a thing because obviously I’m a newbie. Let me tell you, the undercarriage sweats. Apparently all of the seasoned gym goers know to wear black pants. Let’s just say I didn’t ask for help. I pulled my shirt down as far as it would go and I got the hell out of there.

So today I decided I was going back. I didn’t go yesterday and Damit I’m not giving up this soon. I went by myself again. Usually that would throw me into a panic attack but for some reason it didn’t. As I was tying my shoes I had to giggle. I was actually wearing Brogans shoes, and Addisons socks. I bought him the shoes and he never wore them, so I have claimed them as my new gym shoes.

I have new gym shoes and a key card.