I love telling this story. Probably because it ends with me saying the exact thing to someone that deserved it at exactly the right time. That is, by far, one of the best feelings. Walking away and saying, “damn, that was perfect!”
So, my work out habit is like my blogging habit—sporadic at best. I go up and down in terms of getting in shape post baby because honestly, picking up a fun size Snickers is far easier than driving to the gym. How celebrities get back into bikinis weeks after the body trauma that is birth is beyond me. Thankfully I am at pre-baby weight, but I don’t feel like I am at my ultimate and frankly, at 24, I should be.
When I first signed up for my membership to the local gym I was bright-eyed and ambitious. I couldn’t wait to get in and sculpt myself into a Maxim-worthy mama. It hasn’t worked out quite that way as I have navigated my way through the first year of motherhood. The young man who helped me get my gym membership was nothing short of a car salesman in a muscle shirt, flirting relentlessly despite the child laying in the stroller next to me. He probably saw that the potential was there… if only I would commit myself to being just as hot as he thought he was.
From that first meeting on, he has been “motivating” me to come in more frequently with little pep talks like, “haven’t seen YOU in a while…” and “this girl pays a membership fee and comes in once every couple of weeks…” Clearly he has taken many a course in motivating women.
His intentions are obtuse to me, so I try to ignore him, but usually when he makes these remarks I feel my blood begin to rise in temperature and my face flush. I want to whip around and say, “Look jackass, the next time you push 8.5 pounds of flesh out of your body and spend the next 6 months barely sleeping and have no time to yourself you tell me how eager you are to spend your lunch hour pumping iron… must be nice to WORK at a gym… alas, my biceps are NOT my #1 priority.”
Instead I usually provide a little chuckle with, “yeah, I’ve been busy.”
But last week I took a turn. I got up 4 out of 5 weekday mornings in a row at 5:15am and went to the gym. I ate like a champ and I was feeling pretty good about myself. Curiously, I never saw the grim reaper of guilt during my sunrise visits to the gym.
Thursday rolled around and Pilates was at my lunch hour, so I did a quick morning cardio and made my way back to the gym at noon. On the way there I thought about how nice it had been to NOT run into the gym Nazi in the mornings. I’d encountered such nice workers who just smiled and said “have a good workout” – that’s all I wanted to hear. No guilt about how frequently or infrequently I visited.
Naturally, when Pilates was over and I was running out the door to get back to work on time I heard his voice: “What is this, the second time this month? You’re doing well!” his tone dripping with sarcasm. I knew just how to handle this one. I turned around to see his royal jackassness standing next to one of the AM workers who had a befuddled look on his face as this was now the second time I had seen him today—one of five visits so far this week.
I looked from him back to gym Nazi and said, “Funny you should say that – I’ve been seeing your friend here before the sun rises every morning this week before my baby wakes up and before I have to go to work… but I haven’t seen you around… Who’s lazy now?” With that I promptly turned on my high heels and strutted out of there knowing I had said exactly what I wanted to.
I saw him at the gym the next day and not only did he say nothing… he barely even glanced my way – but I knew he had seen me. I guess all he needed to leave me alone was a little pep talk.
