A First Impression

To work towards my New Year’s Goal Number One, the hubby and I decided to join a gym. A real one. With treadmills. And elliptical machines. And various weightlifting apparatus (or would that be apparatii,Latin for causing immense pain). And trainers. And, perhaps the most intimidating, tiny little gym rats with butts so firm you could bounce a Hostess Cupcake off of them.

Right after signing on the dotted line, Jer, in the interest of full disclosure, promptly informed me he would most likely not be frequenting the facility very often. Because in order to qualify for the “corporate” rate we had to sign up together, he wanted to make sure I understood this was my dream and most certainly not his. I was on my own.

So, in a giant show of will and in order to start the New Year with a bang I hightailed my flabby little gullet to the gym bright and early on January 2nd. Now, I’m no beginner here, folks. It’s been a few years since I’ve darkened the doorway of a fitness facility but I’ve spent many an hour abducting and adducting in my less mature past and was very excited to get started again.

I signed in at the front desk with a gigantic smile and undoubtedly “New Girl” scribed right across my forehead, and headed upstairs towards my fate.

Problem #1:

In my excitement, and perhaps to prove to the front counter staff that this was not my first rodeo, I ran up the flight-and-a-half of stairs. Big mistake. I was already winded and had yet to set my eyes upon one piece of fitness equipment. After I managed to catch my breath I made my way towards the “Women Only” fitness room and beelined it towards an open elliptical machine.

Problem #2:

Due to a screaming case of plantar fasciitis in my left foot, I am currently relegated to non-impact cardio, and thought the elliptical was probably my best bet. What I had not anticipated was the coordination necessary to operate said machine. I stepped up onto the foot pedals, grabbed a hold of the moving handles and promptly dropped my locker key. As I bent down to retrieve the key, I apparently miscalculated the size of my tuckus in direct relation to the proximity of the lady working out beside me and proceeded to knock her off her elliptical. With my butt. Yep. My butt. I recovered quickly, and with an apology to my neighbor set off to complete my allotted 30 minutes, burning in shame, looking at no one.

Problem #3:

I had not given thought to how 30 minutes on the elliptical machine would affect my ability to walk straight, post-exercise. Once my cardio workout was over, in a rush to get off the God-forsaken piece of equipment I stepped down from the foot pedals onto shaky legs. I looked around to see if anyone else had noticed the vibrating floor and it became apparent that I was the only one experiencing this phenomenon. I backed up to remove myself from the bank of ellipticals and stepped right into the treadmill behind me, causing me to lose my balance on already faulty legs and sending the poor, unsuspecting jogger off her machine.

Needless to say, the rest of my workout was spent in utter horror and anticipation of ongoing humiliation. But, I made it through the debacle and even went back the following day. And, I am pleased to announce that I sailed through my next workout without causing bodily injury to anyone. Hallelujah.

So, I trudge on with pursuing my goal and hope that by this time next year it will become a non-issue and I can move on to more worthy causes, like learning how to pole dance.

How goes it for you? Are you making any progress?


New Year Goal Number One

Not surprisingly, upon initial reflection as to what my most pressing goals for 2011 were to be, what came screaming at me front and center was my weight. Now folks, I’ve always been what many may consider “curvy” and at many points in my life I have considered that an attribute. And, although I’ve never been slim, by my early twenties I had come to terms with my body, which probably could have been featured in a certain 90′s rap video. (I’ll give you a hint…he likes “big butts and he cannot lie.”)

Unfortunately, after two kids and way too many ingested calories my “curves” have become less of an attribute and more of an unfortunate circumstance. And stuffing my curves into a pair of jeans is now starting to resemble stuffing a bunch of meatballs inside a nylon sock. Yep. Go ahead and visualize it for a moment. Not pretty.

Enter Goal Numero Uno.

Lose weight.

Obviously, weight loss is not a new concept for me. And if I were to be entirely honest it’s a concept which annoyingly inhabits much of my brain power (well, weight loss and planning my son’s future inevitable stint in the pokey for indecent exposure…more on that at a later time.) I have been consumed with the idea of a Heidi Klum body for as long as I can remember and have taken some drastic measures to get there (to read further into these humiliating moments of mine go here and here). The longer it takes me to get my Heidi Klum butt the better Kirstie Alley is starting to look as my end-goal.

But this year is different. And why is that, you might be asking? Because this year, I have changed my tactics. I have become a full-fledged member of a fitness facility. That’s right. I have joined ranks with the millions of aerobic devotees in this beloved country and signed my name on the dotted line to a 12-month commitment towards attaining a better body.

It should be as easy as that. Right? Well, let’s just say that my initiation as a gym rat didn’t go quite as planned. Let’s just say that I now have a posse of baby boomers who purposely avoid me and my preferred cardio equipment. Let’s just say that I made quite an impression with my fellow workout compadres. Yes, I did.

More to come…


New Year…New You?

Holy heck, it’s the year 2011. Can anyone believe it? I’m pretty sure it was only yesterday that I was gathering all my hair up for a side pony, rolling up my leg warmers and sucking down a Diet Tab. Time is flying by and I, for one, am not okay with that.

I’ve never been one for New Year’s resolutions. Like a lot of people, I believe they are one giant set-up for failure and, I don’t know about you, but I think life is already hard enough. The added pressure of meeting our “never ever ever ever gonna succeed at the impossible” resolutions aren’t good for the soul. The word itself carries a pretty final insinuation. And final-anything intimidates me.

I prefer to make goals. Goals are less resolute and more hopeful. A purpose with direction, an attainable objection, a little wishful thinking. I can wrap my mind around a goal. And, often they are way more realistic than a resolution.

For example:

Resolution: I resolve to lose 50 pounds this year and never gain the weight back again.

Goal: I’m going to try and cut my Cheezit consumption down to 1/2 a box a week.

Now, I’d love to lose 50 pounds but cutting out a little Nabisco habit is definitely more in my reach this week.

Resolution: Fully embrace role as mother and wife.

Goal: Stomach at least two games of Chutes ‘n Ladders this week and one “work-related” conversation with hubby without yawning and/or expressing boredom.

Um, do I even have to explain the difference?

The examples above are actually real-life goals of mine and are merely a couple on a very long list. I actually look forward to tackling each and every one this year and am planning on approaching each goal fully equipped with an arsenal of determination and grit. Despite the “lightyear fast” speed of life I am taking my time rediscovering myself this year and, hopefully, each goal will fall into place.

So, I ask you, dear readers, are you a fan of the ever-popular New Year’s Resolutions? Are you the type to make a resolute statement and follow through, come hell or highwater? Perhaps you are a goal-setter like myself and prefer the less pressured route of life change. Or, maybe, you buck tradition altogether and see no need to fix what ain’t broke.

Whatever your bag, baby, I wish for you a healthy and happy New Year and hope this year brings you peace and love.

Happy 2011!