Last Monday, I started really focusing on losing the baby weight – thanks to her getting a team together to try and lose the pounds together. I did great right off the bat, then, it rained for three days, it’s now red tent week, and the 2 scoops of ice cream I had last night were. totally. worth. it.
Scout and I once joined a gym. It did not begin well. Here is my reflection on that:
Do not, I repeat, do not join a gym and have your fitness assessment the day before you start your period. Also if you happen to be caught in a traffic that makes a 40 minute drive take 2 hours and 11 minutes – also just call the damn gym and cancel the appointment (please note where I was sitting in traffic is the highway where the bridge collapsed this summer). If your English import sports bra (the only f*cking place on the planet that markets a sports bra actually effective for what I need a sportsbra for) has not yet come in, take it as a sign and do NOT go to the appointment.
If you do not heed this advice you will almost roll your eyes at the nutrition counselor. You will get teary eyed when your husband tries to comfort you b/c he’s a smart boy and recognizes the signs of impending emotional disaster but has not yet come to realize that touching at this moment of pre-explosion only brings doom closer.
After your nutrition session where you learn that the counselor won’t even answer a simple question about SERVING SIZE without referring you to her low low price intro program of 129 (and 99 cents of course) with followup sessions of 89.99 (why don’t they just round up? does their computer system not have a zero on the keyboard?) you will be uncharacteristically pissed. Oh the fact that your BMI=overweight isn’t helping either.
The pissed feeling from this, when combined with the next task in 10 minutes of your fitness assessment with a muscle bound dude will manifest itself in an embarrassed crying fit in the front of the gym.
When you actually go for the fitness assessment your tender baby feelings will get hurt in all new ways when muscle bound plunks the results of your test down – The good news is that I have “average” bicep strength …. for a woman of course. I have poor flexibility – even though Scout did tell me afterward that the machine quit recording before I was done “flexing” so we’ll just disregard that score until later. THEN I have 33% body fat – guess who’s breathing on the door of obese in a way that if I turn too quickly I might knock it down with my “overweight” ass? My personal favorite was the cardio – after a nice brisk 5 minute walk that actually didn’t make me feel like I was going to die I felt pretty good till the treadmill kicks out “Below Average – 25.” Huh, yeah, turns out I need my cardio score to go up like 3 points before I can even work my way up to the “poor” range.
And to top it off – my body age is 38. uh huh. 38. But for about 900 dollars and eight sessions with a trainer I could be well on my way away from not being almost 40.
Your freak show somewhat in shape, TALL, possessing of a metabolism husband will choose to stay behind and run a couple miles. This works well b/c you can go home, bawl into your cat’s fur (I do not mean this euphemistically as a ‘pussy’ kind of joke – I’m not that flexible – see the above score for proof of that) snot on husband’s pillow and moan over aching boobs (see no sports bra reference above).
You will say screw it and order bbq pizza, and cheese bread and drink DP with schnapps for dinner. This will make you rather amorous as the schnapps hits your system. This will make you romance your husband. This will work really well until the schnapps wears off about the time it gets really interesting and the aches and pains in the boobs and the cramps will overtake any fun and you plead a raincheck with your husband for another night.
You will awake the next morning and be thrilled when you see your period has started. This will confirm that you are not loony, depressed, fat, weak, unsexy, or any of the other things that have wandered through your mind – including pregnant.
So to sum up – no gym assessment when premenstrual. Don’t do it.
For the record – Mrs. Flinger has never made me cry. Or asked me for 900 dollars.