that girl

I am that girl.  I am the girl who eats her bacon, egg and cheese biscuit in the parking lot of the Y before going in to walk.  I was so hungry I couldn’t wait until after walking, but time was not on my side so I had to make the tough call and eat total crap right before I tried to bring some harmony to my body.  Ooops.

Anyway, after picking a few crumbs from my teeth I was on my way to the gym.  I made my way up to the track and watched in disbelief from above as the ladies in the gym did some crazy-cross-training-I-can’t-imagine-what-they-call-this-stuff stuff.  (I just looked it up – Boot Camp.  Makes sense now that I had been thinking of my friend who actually just got out of boot camp.  Guess I might be smarter than I look.)

Here I was, patting myself on the back for getting up and moving (albeit slowly) around the track.  These women were being yelled at by military looking men with black clothes and red whistles “Move faster!”  Whoa!  I was so happy to be me, going in slow circles and not them, getting totally called out.

They did sit ups, push ups, ran suicides, jumped rope, but the one that got me was dusting the floor.  Seriously, they put a towel on the floor, with a huge round weight on the towel and bent over behind it pushing the towel/weight combo from one end of the gym to the other.  Even if my back were 100% you would not catch me doing that.  Ever.  It didn’t even look ergonomically correct.  Strains all around. 

I couldn’t help but think, I could load a few of these ladies in my van (better yet, they could run to my house) and we could clear the furniture from my kitchen/dining room and they could go crazy with the towel/weight combo until my floors were spic and span.  Like human roombas.

Then they started skipping.

They joined me, a few at a time, skipping on the track with me.  Except I was walking and they were full on, arms swinging, knees up skipping.  I had to smile.  But as soon as 10 people start skipping, you suddenly look like the idiot who is just walking. 

My favorite part was watching one woman who was near the rear, walking when no one was looking.  She would skip when she was in eyesight, and then walk when the banners hid her from view.  I would have been that girl, too.  Though really, I wouldn’t have been any of those girls.  I don’t want to be yelled at to go faster, keep my knees up.  That is not motivating to me.  I would end up totally pissed off or in tears.  But that’s just me. 

So I continued my circular journey, did my mile or two miles or whatever because I didn’t keep track.  At least no one threw up.  Last time I was there two people threw up, which of course meant that I had to leave.

Kudos to the woman who can do that stuff.  And to the women who want to do that stuff.  Me?  I just want to get some balance in my life.  A few laps at a time.

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2 responses to “that girl

  1. Hilarious! And this is coming from someone semi-obsessed with exercising at the moment.

  2. ohmygosh! you are soooo funny! You definitely are the Erma Bombeck of your generation.

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