Let's Get Physical......

The other day, while ice was pounding our home and we were a little on edge, my husband, in his very characteristic way said, "I think you need to start working out."

I told him to go play poker with his brother. His comment hurt me and I was annoyed that his "bull in a china shop" ways had led to him breaking one of my favorite new lamps in our home. My husband's tremendous athleticism does not translate into every day gracefulness. That is a blog for another day.

The words struck my heart hard at first, and then I let my head take over. Damn it. He is right. He wasn't saying anything about my tummy flab. He knows better. That is the result of my birthing two of his giant babies. My arthritis is not getting better, and the girl who used to love to walk her dogs early in the morning and who used to work out is afraid to become more physical.

I started looking at my options. Now that he is not working his second job, I have free childcare in the evenings, so I can work out. But, then again, baseball season is looming, so that is not going to work. Then I remembered when we used to belong to the YMCA, they had free childcare. So, I approached him about joining again, and he quite rightfully reminded me that LA Fitness is essentially two blocks away and that they have a Kid Zone, and our kids would be cared for while I worked out.

LA Fitness.

I immediately was turned off of the idea. I don't want to work next to a ton of skinny bitches. I was comfortable using the elliptical next to a 70 year old woman and thinking I had it going on.

That's the real problem. Taking the tour yesterday confirmed my fears. A ton of younger woman with unbelievable bodies working out. Make up and all. What. The. Hell.? I have always been fascinated by the skinny bitch at the gym. Why are you here? To torment me? To dangle yourself like a carrot in front of all the men? Yes....we see you. See, that is my issue. I don't think I am worthy to work out next to a skinny bitch. Please understand, my "skinny bitch" reference is not something I wish to be offensive, but rather encompass a larger group of women who seem to put off woman like me: barely 5'4", oddly shaped and constantly wanting to look like Jennifer Aniston.

Back to LA Fitness. Our tour guide was from Centerville, "class of 2006", he pointed out, as I made a lame attempt to give him the Elk salute and state, "class of 1990." He then showed me all the equipment, which I have to say, is numerous. I would never have to wait to get on an elliptical. He then told me he could get me a personal trainer for my first visit to assess me and my arthritis. OK, kid, I know I am limping around, but my arthritis is mine, damn it. Lay off. Then he showed me the two classrooms, which were empty, and said, AND I AM NOT LYING, "My mom loves classes here. She takes yoga. So, you could do that too."

"MY MOM." I was ready to let him show me the pool so I could push him in it.

It was then he offered to show me the pool, and he and Dan went through the men's locker room and I went through the ladies'. I came out to a blast of humid air and he explained the pool laps, sauna and whirlpool. He was not picking up on my annoyance with him at all and my husband knows no strangers, so they were getting along famously.

We went back out and met up in the hallway and he turned to me and said, "Just go home and talk about it. The deals we have today for membership we can find for you later. Just think about what is best for you." OK, he was just a kid doing his job.

So we left and Dan immediately said, "I don't understand why you are not more excited." If we join, you can leave anytime you want, with your iPod and escape here." I told him what was in my heart. "I don't know if I can work out next to a skinny young girl, who obviously doesn't need to work out. I felt tears welling up in my eyes. He said, "If you want to be that skinny girl, you can do it, but out of all those woman in there, if I just met you today, I would still only hit on you."

Damn him.

He told me to take a couple of days and he would take his own money (from the savings of the old job) and pay off my membership for one year. So, doesn't affect our household money. Sure I would have to buy a couple of outfits, as I am sure my Topsail Island and Ocean Isle Beach tee shirts and sweats are good enough for lounging, but not for working out. I have also thought that if I can increase the mobility of my hip, I can do more, like go dancing with my girlfriends. Something I miss, but something that makes me so tired, it is not worth doing. I also thought, if I can trim my baby fat from my tummy and gain a butt, it might be worth it. I have no ass. No thighs either. I am all woman up top, very girlish from the hips down.

So, as I write this blog, I am quickly coming to realize that working next to a skinny bitch might not be too bad. She might be jealous of the fact that I have a husband who thinks I am hot, inside and out. It might also be good for me to realize that all skinny bitches are doing is the same thing I want for myself. To feel better about themselves. The majority of them do not have children, so applying make up before working out to them is normal, while it is a time waster for me.

Once Dan wakes up (we watched Inception last night and he got all wound up and nervous from it and couldn't sleep) I am going to tell him I want a membership.

And maybe one day, I will be the skinny bitch next to you on an elliptical.

Yeah, I am laughing out loud at that too.