I wise man once told me that when you’re going through a divorce, you should get off Facebook and hit the gym.
Clearly, I’m hitting the fucking gym. Facebook is another story. After all, most of my readership here is my own Facebook friends! However, much to my own amusement, I’ve gained several followers to my blog who are legit into fitness. I’m like, “Wha–huh? Don’t you people know who I am??”
I’m for reals grateful for the interest and support, though. Praise and attention are some of my biggest motivators. Don’t lie, bitches. You know the same is true for you.
Today was a new class for me: Lean Muscle with Warren. This class was a little old-fashioned compared to the other classes I’ve been doing. Body Pump and RIPPED are, to me, pretty modern and seem to be designed after, like, fitness research and shit. Plus they use contemporary music. Warren’s class is more like what I imagine my mom’s Jane Fonda VHS tapes were probably like. Not that I ever saw her use them; I think she was about as much into exercise as I am. (She’s dead now, so no judgement.) And Warren’s songs were a little old school. They included a remix of “So Happy Together” by the Turtles. Which, come on, was pretty badass.
Warren is a 50-something dude with the voice of Richard Simmons. He gave his instructions in time with the beat of the music. I can’t even accurately express it in writing. “Two–and–bring your legs together! Eight–seven–six–five–legs are off the ground!–four–three–abs are still tight!”
I swear, this man has not a single ounce of fat on his entire body. Even his face is chiseled. I mean, we didn’t work any face muscles today or anything, but he must surely have secrets for unpacking those cheek pockets, because I’m telling you, his face is so sharp it could cut you. Every single one of his muscles, on his whole body, is clearly defined. Holy shit. He obviously knows what he’s doing.
Warren was very much like a drill sergeant, but fabulous. “Alright, ladies! When you hear my voice go up like that, there’s about to be a hissy fit! ABS TIGHT!”
He made us count down sometimes out loud, and extra loud, and he would say he was making us do extra sets because we weren’t loud enough. I think also his favorite number is four. I was able to ascertain this because when he himself counted down our reps, he would go, “six, five, four, four, four, four, four, three…” Fucking asshole. “Is anyone feeling that in their quadriceps? I CAN’T HEAR YOU!”
No, actually, he made me giggle. And he also called me out and made me count out loud, on my own. I guess because I’m new. Not because I was slacking, because as God as my witness, I put my all into that fucking class. I swear. Maybe I dropped to my heels a couple times when I was supposed to be on my toes, but that was only because I was fucking out of juice. Totally fucking out.
He had some intense offerings for the abs at the end, but I modified on account of my diastasis recti. I also told him I was going to, so he wouldn’t think I was lazy and try to make me. “No hissy fits!” I said. He was cool with that.
I feel a little impatient about my abs. I read one site, somewhere, that said when you do the diastasis recti test, if you can fit one or two fingers in your gap, that’s “normal.” But that contradicts other shit I’m pretty sure I read another time. I think. I wish I had made my midwife palpate my abs when I went for my annual womanly last month, but that was before I gave a shit about my abs or working out, so it didn’t occur to me. Anyway, I’ve tried to figure out how many finger widths fit in my ab gap. It’s two… but maybe it’s three? It’s definitely not four.
Point being, I want to work my abs the way I work my arms and legs. My midsection is the place I want the most to see some results. At this point, I know enough about diastasis recti to make me not want to work my abs too much for fear I’ll make it worse, but I also feel pretty certain my pansy-ass mummy tummy exercises aren’t doing much except not make the diastasis recti worse.
Warren’s class also did a number on my booty. I’ll give him that: Body Pump and RIPPED make my arms and legs feel the burn, but my ass hasn’t yet been on fire the way it was in Lean Muscle.
In addition, I felt good about my form for most of Warren’s class. He was good at correcting us, and he reminded us to look in the mirror to make sure we were aligned properly. I was pleased, for the most part, with my performance. I liked the way my legs looked in the air. Shut up, pervs. That’s not what I meant.
So, Saturday was Gym Week 2, Day 5. I took Friday off, and I’ll take Sunday off. Don’t question the way I number my days, bitches. It makes sense in my mind.
Anyway, for the first two weeks, I went to the gym five days per week. That is a LOT. That is more than I expected or intended when I started this game. I’m not sure I can commit to that level of participation long-term. And you know what? I’m not committing to it. I’m not committing to anything. I’m the Plenty of Fish of the gym: wants to date, but nothing serious.
I also took advantage of the gym nursery today, in spite of reports from friends that the nursery sucks and is unclean. Oh, well. If I’m gonna do this shit, my kids are going to have to fucking have to hang in the dirty nursery from time to time. It was only for an hour. I’d be willing to bet my kids were on the dirtier side of the kids in there. (Seriously, I asked my daughter twice if they’d had baths at their dad’s, and she said yes, but the same glitter is on her scalp that was there when I dropped her off, so…) Whatever, bitches. It’s summer. Kids are supposed to be dirty in the summer.
I didn’t take any pictures today, so I’ll leave you with this image of bark lice I took on a tree in the courtyard at my office. That courtyard is tiny but has all kinds of bizarre wildlife going on in there. What does this have to do with the fucking gym? Not a damn thing. It’s just weird. So enjoy it.
Gym Week Two, Day Five
- Favorite part: booty burn, bitches!
- Least favorite part: remedial level abs.