The Old Mare Heads to the Gym

Dieting and Exercising...ugh... All of us would like to actually weigh what our driver's license says. 130 lbs. Yeah. That may currently be in the lower portion of my posterior. Spring always brings on the self loathing and the "why didn't I just stick to my New Year's resolution thoughts? I could have been Ashley Judd by now!"  Well, no time like the present to get going...Perhaps my horse won't actually run away at the mere sight of me this summer, and when I finally throw a leg over him (without splitting the seams of my jeans), he won't groan and look at me like,  "What in THE heck have you done to yourself all winter, lady? YOU actually want a lift up the mountain?" 

So, the first step is buying workout clothes; preferably something that will not catch fire as my thighs rub together. Let's not forget the super duper sports bra, tank top, and cross trainer, ultra-sculpting shoes to give me a lifted appearance. I probably should buy a gym bag, because my duffel bag from last summer still has a campfire stench. Workout attire...$350 Looking like I ALWAYS go to the gym...priceless.

Next, I purchase a membership. Upon entering the gym, my envy kicks in as I see some blonde pounding it out on the treadmill, and I instantly think, "Crap... You really think you can keep up with barbie running mach 1 on the treadmill at a 42 incline?" Maybe I should start with a one month beginner membership and a yoga class or two. Lord knows, I could learn to be more flexible. Membership purchased, I head to the changing room. Putting on the clothes itself is a workout! All that bending over, holding your breath, and rearranging is exhausting! Out the door I go, sweat already running down unmentionable areas.

Hmmm... where to start? Maybe I should quietly observe how some of this stuff works before I make a fool of myself. (Oh, too late! I'm already AT the gym in exercise attire!) Instantly, I feel inferior as I watch a lady resembling Demi Moore in G.I. Jane, doing one armed push ups. Swell, I can't do two armed without cheating.  Scanning the room, I see someone pedaling away on stationary bike. Maybe, I could handle that. Heading over, I adjust the seat level and start pedaling. However, two minutes into pedaling at a low speed, I feel like I've popped a lung, and my underwear are so far up my rear, I am not sure I will ever be able to retrieve them! Moving on... Maybe some stomach crunches on the pilates ball... Picking out a medium sized ball, I find a dark corner to hide in. I already know how this is going to look. Laying over the ball, trying to balance, I lose it completely, wobble off, and smack the floor. I was always taught to get back on if I get bucked off, so here we go again. Laying over the stability ball, I realize that sports bras may somewhat work for vertical movement restriction, but horizontally is a different story. Suddenly, my bosom is at my chin. Trying to balance them and me, I attempt a few crunches. I am pretty sure I look like somebody off of an old Richard Simmon's "Sweating to the Oldies" tape. No more Pilates ball... What next? How about the Stairclimber? I could handle a few flights, and just to show that I am serious, I will turn up the resistance. The first few flights down! This isn't so bad... But suddenly, my butt cheeks are burning, and my calves cramp so bad, that when I climb off the machine, it looks like I have a stick permanently shoved up my posterior. I can't imagine how it's going to feel tomorrow. Day one and done. Wondering about my sanity, I head home. Ashley Judd may have to wait, because I am starving for a juicy burger, loaded, and I am pretty sure an adult beverage is calling my name...