Fabulous, I survived my first week back at the gym or as I like to call it “the torture place where we punish ourselves for eating too much”. I took exactly one year’s hiatus from meaningful exercise and frankly I can’t recall why I did it. But now I am back trying to get into shape and from what I experienced last week it is going to take some time and it’s going to be hell.
A couple of weeks ago I had the misfortune of stumbling across a photo of me on Facebook. The photo was taken at a party hubby and I attended. There are many photos of me floating around on the intrawebs and normally most of these photos have been taken from my good side (any side that makes me look thin) and those that were not most definitely are photoshopped. But this photo was different, it wasn’t my good side nor was it electronically altered – it horrified me!
You see in the last 12 months the lack of exercise and abundance of all things that’s normally bad for me took its toll. I gained a few pounds and I didn’t notice seeing as weight gain is an evil gradual process and I was convinced my washing machine was faulty and shrinking my clothes. Then I saw that fucking photo! I once use to have one chin, but in that photo I had two and to exacerbate the horror I looked 3 months pregnant!!! After almost passing out from hyperventilating, I went to the bathroom looked at my chubby self in the mirror and decided to go back to gym.
It took a lot of mental preparation for me to walk into the gym last week. Firstly, I was scared that due to my current fitness level being zero I was either going to pass out and split my head open in one of the classes or have a heart attack. Secondly, I was secretly praying that all the people in my group class would be morbidly obese or at least fatter than me, which of course they weren’t. Armed with a prayer, a towel, a water bottle and a cute outfit that hid my blubber I walked into the gym on Tuesday, focused, determined and slightly terrified.
Trying to appear confident I took a strategic position in the back of the class. From the back no one could watch me or point and laugh and if I had enough I could just sneak out. As all the ladies and two gentleman came dripping into the studio and zero hour was vast approaching I fought the urge to take my stuff and flee. Then the instructor arrived and closed the door behind him and with a firm voice becoming of a drill sergeant he said “Welcome to Boxing, I will be working you out for the next 60 minutes” and with that there was no backing out.
I’m no fucking Rocky and floating like a butterfly and stinging like a bee clearly wasn’t in my repertoire but I suffered my way through. As I got into my car after the class I was soaking wet, relieved and kind of proud of myself. The next day I was pleasantly surprised that I wasn’t stiff or sore, but the surprise was short-lived. Thursday came and I was in a world of pain. Walking and breathing and even holding a pen was painful and to make matters worse - I was to attend another class that evening and I was petrified!
Shuffling my way into Studio 1 Thursday afternoon I was having a protracted conversation with myself in my head. “Why do you punish yourself like this? Surely there are easier ways to lose weight?” After ten minutes of negotiating and rationalizing with myself I eventually made peace with the fact that I am at the gym and I am there for a reason.
The second Nazi instructor pitched all excited and energetic but his enthusiasm wasn’t contagious. As the class started my muscles warmed up and the excruciating pain subsided. He worked us hard and paid particular attention to our asses. At one point he screamed “Clench those gluteal muscles!” and I wanted to scream back “If I clench any harder I will pop a vein!” Sixty minutes later it was over and I made my way to my car finished! I could barely drive away as my legs were shaking that much, but it felt good.
I survived my first week back at the gym and I am honestly not looking forward to this – my second week. But with all things in life we sometimes have to commit ourselves to things we don’t find appealing. I will go back tomorrow and suffer some more. Hopefully as the weeks pass and my pregnant belly and my second chin melts away I will start enjoying this weekly excursion to the torture palace. Who knows I might even get addicted to exercise, now wouldn’t that be a hoot!
Till next time.
Jackie Beat - Beaver (Not for the easily offended)