While my ample thighs and noticeable jiggle might lead one to believe otherwise, I'm a regular gym-goer. I hit the treadmill, lift weights, do a little yoga. I even hop on that escalator machine, that they call a Stairmaster, but really deserves a more telling title. Maybe one with some kick-your-ass to it like, The Destroyer or The "You Want Some of This?"
But I digress. My point really is that I go to the gym regularly and I do my fair share of sweating and grunting and panting (oh my!). As soon as I step into one of those classes though, I feel like a "before" contestant on the Biggest Loser. Sure, I get through the warm-up just fine, but fifteen minutes in, I'm thirsty, out-of-breath, doing that little hands-on-hips, walk-in-place, gimme-a-minute kind of move that can only mean one thing, "That bitch is out of shape!" In my mind, I run through a litany of excuses: Well, clearly I just didn't have enough protein at breakfast or I must have a lower sweat threshold or Uh-oh, maybe I'm dying (see previous post for further explanation).
Of course, you can't interrupt the class to explain why you're so embarrassingly uncoordinated and out-of-breath. So, I'll usually stop to get water since, hello, you have to keep hydrated. Or, my favorite, I'll pretend to be one of those people with an ongoing sports-related injury. You know, I suddenly stop and start bending my knee with a "Now, that's curious," look on my face. To make it more authentic, I keep the accompanying internal monologue going in my head, Is that my knee clicking? Oh WHY does that bum joint of mine have to act up now, of all times, in spin class?"
Despite my minor difficulty in fitness classes, they do work me out like no other, so I keep going back for more. My new favorite is Resistance Rebounding, the fancy Crunch-word for Trampoline Time! We bounce around with fun music playing and an equally bouncy teacher, who I'm convinced is a former cheerleader. (Although, her outstanding rhythm and possible membership to the tribe makes her a more likely candidate for drill team). She really is a motivating teacher, and doesn't give me that, "Now what the hell is wrong with you?" look that the last rebounding teacher did when I couldn't seem to bounce and kick in unison. In fact, the last couple of times I've taken her class, she's kissing people hello, talking about her new haircut. I'm thinking just a couple more classes and she'll be calling me "hon" too!
So today, before class started, a few of us are waiting outside. These women are all fit and trim and clearly don't have day jobs, so I hate them. But there was one crazy bitch I found particularly offensive. I've seen her before...like seen her in every class I've ever taken there. She's the one who does the "extra challenge" in yoga and says "ohm" like super-loud and longer than anyone. I know, because she was next to me at the last class.
Anyway, she comes down to join the group while we're waiting, clearly all sweaty and worked-out. Oh my God, I think to myself, She's pre-cardio-ed? That's right, she did her cardio before the cardio, as though the 45-minute session that busts my butt and leaves me panting in the corner just isn't enough for her 5% body fat frame. Oh well, excuuuuse me.
The last class lets out and I notice a couple of the women inside are hanging out to take this one as well. So Chisel followed by Rebounding? These chicks are hard-core! But I won't be intimidated, oh no. I grab my little trampoline, find a discrete spot in the back and I'm ready to bounce like I've never bounced before. Let me tell you, I kicked ASS today! I bounced and kicked at the same time, only stopped for water twice, didn't need to fake an injury.
But just as I'm starting to feel like Jack Lalaine, I notice that Pre-cardio Bitch is putting her own twist on the routine. While we're all bouncing in place, she's scissoring her arms. We're doing jumping jacks, she's double-timing it. What's she trying to prove? Then I realize, she's not the only one. The double-feature women are also getting way more aggressive than the rest of us--like really keeping those knees high.
I try to ignore them, instead focusing on the positive, like how the perky teacher looked at ME when she said, "Great job, ladies!" Or on the fact that either that mirror is a skinny mirror, the lighting is excellent, or I've gotten very toned. I'm here for me, not for them. I don't have some void that I fill with copious amounts of exercise (really, more like copious amounts of Brie). And I've got a bright shiny ring on my finger that reminds me again and again that I have someone in my life who loves me just the way I am, jiggle and all. I don't see any shiny thing on Pre-cardio Bitch's finger.
After ab work and stretching and golf claps all around, I walk out feeling smug, happy, and (I daresay!) thinner. As I'm bidding the teacher a great weekend, I hear from behind me, "Bye Carol, thanks again!" Gasp! Bitch knows her by name...I'm going to have to come more often!
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