A Pretty Gym Bunny I Am Not.
June 6th, 2008 by trancejen
I have, in the past, been a member of that gym that rhymes with Rally’s and features hot, ripped, tan, oiled bodies in its commercials. This is, of course why I went: not to become one of said hot, ripped, tan, oiled bodies, but to ogle them.
I love watching other people work out, which is probably why I so dread working out in any public arena and being watched myself. The Rally-gym in the neighborhood of the job I had at that time was right on point, too - hardbodies working to become harder. It was a real visual treat: rippled men pumping away at free weights and lithe, smoothly muscled gym bunnies cheerfully toiling away at circuit machines and treadmills or elliptical trainers, all moving in perfect rhythm without appearing to mar their matching Spandex outfits with a single unsightly drop of sweat.
How very nice! How very upper-middle-class-suburbia! I coveted their flabless bodies, but what I coveted more was their ability to work out while maintaining a facade of coolness.
I am a workout wreck. My idea of workout wear is a yellow and gray Tegan and Sara t-shirt and baggy blue yoga pants that consistently fall down at inopportune times. The second my body begins to move beyond its normal, sluggish range of motion I begin to sweat so profusely that the carpeting below me begins to squish. To further add insult to injury, I turn a deep shade of burgundy usually reserved for wines, my dining room walls, and heart attack victims.
I won’t even elaborate on what happens when you are a large-chested woman, have a crappy sports bra, and have to jump rope. Personally I feel that having to jump rope again after a twenty-eight year absence when I could hardy fucking do it right the first time is a complete insult to my body and is just ridiculous. There is a reason that grown folks with breasts do not jump motherfucking rope. If you are a man and want to jump rope with all of your junk flopping around, then fine, but I personally would much prefer it if my womanly chesticular junk stayed right where it should be.
So that is me, sloppy, red, sweaty, boobs a-swingin’.
At the dojo I currently attend we are fairly serious about working out, so sweat is encouraged, but I am probably still good for a lot of laughs around water coolers after kickboxing classes.
“Mabel, you should have seen this hot ghetto mess in my kickboxing class! Girl!! White girl was PURPLE like a PLUM. I am for real. And she have that real pale blonde hair all stickin’ out in every direction, make her look like the Scarecrow or somethin’. Mm-hm. Thought she was going to drop dead right there by the weapons wall.”
I shudder to think.
In fact I am still sweating now, a full half-hour after arriving home and turning on the AC.
Perhaps this is a good indication that my furnace is a-burning and that I am dropping pounds by the second, but I think it’s a stronger indication that I am, in fact, just a big hot ghetto mess.
Happy Weekend.
melissa wrote on 06/6/08 at 11:11 am :
Oh my goodness! I turn red as a beet whenever I work out too.
I think it’s ’cause we’re awesome.
trancejen wrote on 06/6/08 at 12:16 pm :
It’s ’cause we’re so hot.
Lisa wrote on 06/6/08 at 2:01 pm :
Preach it, sister. I turn all sorts of interesting shades of red when I am doing any sort of vigorous exercise, or if I am gardening in the summer and it is about 9,000 degrees outside. It is not pretty.
Kungfukitten wrote on 06/9/08 at 12:03 am :
I’m sure you’re ghetto sexy from all this working out. I used to have a girl in kung fu class who’d turn purple during each class. She never keiled over and even had a baby so I think purplification is fine. Thank goodness your insurance came through. What a pain.
melissa wrote on 06/10/08 at 6:24 pm :
LOL! Purplification! Perfect.
Kate wrote on 06/18/08 at 11:33 am :
I just read a few of your entries you’re fucking hysterical! I could have been writing this…You have a great sense of humor, I love it! I know how you feel about being out of shape and tired…that’s me to a tee. I have a 19 year old girl who knows fucking everything, especially how to piss me off!
At least you are getting out there and doing something about it…I’m not, just sit on my ass, smoke and worry about why my heart fucking races and why I get winded so fast. Good for you! I have an anxiety disorder which only makes me more fucking paranoid.
You hang in there…it does give me some hope for myself….now I am going to read more of your entries..
Kate
SOG knives wrote on 07/18/08 at 7:06 pm :
SOG knives…
Interesting ideas… I wonder how the Hollywood media would portray this?…