I've been sick since early last week fighting a stupid cold/sinus infection. I can't remember smooching Wonder Woman, but I'm pretty sure I have the same bug she had.
There are guidelines about not sharing bugs at the Y, which is where I no doubt picked this one up, since I have no place else to go.
Here are just a few:
1. Cover your nose when you sneeze or cough. Then wash your hands or use that antibacterial goo conveniently located throughout the building. I mentioned to Captain Underpants in the hot tub a few weeks ago that he had a big booger hanging out of his nose. He thanked me, wiped it off and then rinsed his hand off in the water. I said "Yuck" - then qualified my comment with "What are friends for???" I think he likes me now.
2. Stay out of the pool if you are sick. Note this is just a guideline. Not blowing spit and snot into the pool are RULES, something I am sure to find a chance to point out to The Spitter someday soon because apparently pointing out this sort of transgression comes easily to a bitch like me.
3. Wash your hands after you use the loo. There's one older lady who always wears her swimming gloves when she pees. Does she use T.P.??? I wonder. Yuck just thinking about it.
4. Wipe down the machines before and after use. According to my sources apparently Number 1 did NOT wipe down his treadmill yesterday after working up a good sweat. Yuck again.
5. Wipe down the mats AND the stability ball after use, especially if you are sneezing and coughing or you've had the ball between your legs. One guy jumped onto my mat yesterday when I went to put equipment away between sets. If he gets my cold tough noogies. He could have used the other mat which did NOT have my territorial markers sitting on it (read: water bottle, yellow bag, stretching band, towel, etc.).
I missed a few days of work and workouts but I was back this weekend doing my best to burn off a few calories and work out the kinks without falling over. I think I'm feeling better but Wonder Woman did point out that it could be a couple of weeks before I kick this bug completely. NOTE TO SELF: Invest in Kleenex.
But I am doing my best to keep my symptoms under control so I wouldn't be shunned by others just as concerned with bugs as I can be (although maybe if I did some horking I'd get a bit more room in front of the mirrors when I'm lifting weights).
FYI: I will be taking a few more days off before I get back into swimming. You're welcome.
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Sexercise
Anything with the word "sex" in it is bound to up my page views this week.
So I read this crazy article about a sexpert at Indiana University describing women as having exercise induced orgasms. Spinning bikes, the Princess Chair, and chin-ups bars were cited as the most common (and soon to be the most popular) pieces of equipment for women to get off on. Next time you see me doing 50 crunches you might even guess I'm trying for a "coregasm".
NOT. In all my years of over the top workouts I have always enjoyed myself, but not that much. It's more likely that many of us 5:00 a.m. gals are staying away from what's home in bed, and wearing ourselves out so we have an excuse for later. However, if you hear me moan it may be pleasure for a change, not the usual back spasm or knee tweak or shoulder ache. If you hear ANY woman moan during her workout, from now on, I suggest that you NOT ask if everything's okay. You may get an answer you really don't want to hear.
Today the pool was really busy. I got to swim alone for awhile (pleasure there), but I had to share my lane through most of the rest of my 80 laps. At least we didn't have to do circles (although that might be a turn on, who knows). Anyway, I described myself to Sharin' as a "pool slut", because I had had multiple partners (five? six? but who's counting) during the time I was swimming. None of them were even cute like the guy that got in next to the wall with her.
We work out for any number of reasons: to look good, to feel good, to keep from turning into a blotto, to have fun, to feel better about life, and to get the workout buzz. We may also be working out because we can't sleep, we're stressed to the max, our partners are just a constant piss-off, we have no friends and no life, and we are turning into zombies so we just get up in the morning and go because we need brains.
Some come to the gym mostly to socialize and Won't Shut Up. I think in the two hours I was in the pool Stefanaki did 5 laps because he was yakking up anyone that would listen, and I didn't want to. I finally said: "I'm a Librarian. Do I need to shush your ass???" (I did, but I didn't). I changed lanes for yet another partner.
But then I got the lane to myself again as I finished up, which felt good. Nothing over the top, nope, no chlorine scented, bubbly, half naked, wild wet sensations there, just the usual happy tired now I'm starved kind of high. Uh, starved for food, that is. Don't get any funny ideas.
So I read this crazy article about a sexpert at Indiana University describing women as having exercise induced orgasms. Spinning bikes, the Princess Chair, and chin-ups bars were cited as the most common (and soon to be the most popular) pieces of equipment for women to get off on. Next time you see me doing 50 crunches you might even guess I'm trying for a "coregasm".
NOT. In all my years of over the top workouts I have always enjoyed myself, but not that much. It's more likely that many of us 5:00 a.m. gals are staying away from what's home in bed, and wearing ourselves out so we have an excuse for later. However, if you hear me moan it may be pleasure for a change, not the usual back spasm or knee tweak or shoulder ache. If you hear ANY woman moan during her workout, from now on, I suggest that you NOT ask if everything's okay. You may get an answer you really don't want to hear.
Today the pool was really busy. I got to swim alone for awhile (pleasure there), but I had to share my lane through most of the rest of my 80 laps. At least we didn't have to do circles (although that might be a turn on, who knows). Anyway, I described myself to Sharin' as a "pool slut", because I had had multiple partners (five? six? but who's counting) during the time I was swimming. None of them were even cute like the guy that got in next to the wall with her.
We work out for any number of reasons: to look good, to feel good, to keep from turning into a blotto, to have fun, to feel better about life, and to get the workout buzz. We may also be working out because we can't sleep, we're stressed to the max, our partners are just a constant piss-off, we have no friends and no life, and we are turning into zombies so we just get up in the morning and go because we need brains.
Some come to the gym mostly to socialize and Won't Shut Up. I think in the two hours I was in the pool Stefanaki did 5 laps because he was yakking up anyone that would listen, and I didn't want to. I finally said: "I'm a Librarian. Do I need to shush your ass???" (I did, but I didn't). I changed lanes for yet another partner.
But then I got the lane to myself again as I finished up, which felt good. Nothing over the top, nope, no chlorine scented, bubbly, half naked, wild wet sensations there, just the usual happy tired now I'm starved kind of high. Uh, starved for food, that is. Don't get any funny ideas.
Saturday, February 4, 2012
Repeat
According to recent research from Columbia University, active, educated women are drinking more than ever. Three out of three girlgymjunkies agree.
We also agree that we would probably lose the weight we want to lose in record time if we didn't actually NEED those drinks. ROUTINE: I start at 5:00 a.m. and work out for at least two hours in a race against time (surely I'm not as old as I look), work all day M-F (doing all that I can to prove my worth and stay ahead of the curve - no stress there!), without a banana break like Evil Lifeguard seems to need every 1.25 hours or so, walk back out to my car, strip off the bra, take off the heels, race home just LOVIN' traffic and rush hour asshole drivers, stopping of course to run errands but keeping the economy running so shopping is a good thing, regrouping for the next day (clean out gym gear, e.g., hang up wet towels and bathing suit, air out ditty bag, recharge shuffle, replace emergency socks with new ones), then lay out very professional clothing for work trying not to forget the socks again, reset alarms, wipe lip gloss off the rim of water bottle and refill, get fresh gear together for whatever workout is planned for the morning, and then pour myself a goblet of white wine and STOP MOVING for almost 5 whole minutes, albeit not sitting down (yet). Then pour my second goblet, trying to forget the world outside and just relax a bit before setting up the coffee, making a highly nutritious breakfast and lunch to pack along for tomorrow, adding chocolate just in case someone pisses me off and I NEED a treat, cooking dinner, setting a table, finishing the wine, vowing not to drink this much again tomorrow because I am NOT going to lose weight this way, finally sitting down and barely eating because I'm exhausted from a long day and wine, and passing out on the couch.
Repeat until Friday then "sleep in" on Saturday because the Y doesn't open until 7:00, then push a three hour workout because I have no life. Eat a huge breakfast because I am starved. Nap. Drink. Eat dinner. Blog. Sleep, hopefully without waking up six times because of the hot flashes and excess use of alcohol.
T.B.B. is back trying to get her stupid shoulder working again and I think she is a TROOPER. Okay so she thinks she needs to lose a few pounds but GAWD if I looked like her I'd be happier than a pig in shit. I haven't lost an ounce, though like most gals, I would like to lose at least a few pounds before "bikini season". I tell the men when they complain about needing to go on a diet to remember bikini season; I think they think I'm weird.
At least I don't think I'm clinically depressed, and I think I'm keeping life's usual anxieties under some sort of control, although I still have no patience for lousy drivers. OK Cookie: pass the rum.
Monday. Repeat.
We also agree that we would probably lose the weight we want to lose in record time if we didn't actually NEED those drinks. ROUTINE: I start at 5:00 a.m. and work out for at least two hours in a race against time (surely I'm not as old as I look), work all day M-F (doing all that I can to prove my worth and stay ahead of the curve - no stress there!), without a banana break like Evil Lifeguard seems to need every 1.25 hours or so, walk back out to my car, strip off the bra, take off the heels, race home just LOVIN' traffic and rush hour asshole drivers, stopping of course to run errands but keeping the economy running so shopping is a good thing, regrouping for the next day (clean out gym gear, e.g., hang up wet towels and bathing suit, air out ditty bag, recharge shuffle, replace emergency socks with new ones), then lay out very professional clothing for work trying not to forget the socks again, reset alarms, wipe lip gloss off the rim of water bottle and refill, get fresh gear together for whatever workout is planned for the morning, and then pour myself a goblet of white wine and STOP MOVING for almost 5 whole minutes, albeit not sitting down (yet). Then pour my second goblet, trying to forget the world outside and just relax a bit before setting up the coffee, making a highly nutritious breakfast and lunch to pack along for tomorrow, adding chocolate just in case someone pisses me off and I NEED a treat, cooking dinner, setting a table, finishing the wine, vowing not to drink this much again tomorrow because I am NOT going to lose weight this way, finally sitting down and barely eating because I'm exhausted from a long day and wine, and passing out on the couch.
Repeat until Friday then "sleep in" on Saturday because the Y doesn't open until 7:00, then push a three hour workout because I have no life. Eat a huge breakfast because I am starved. Nap. Drink. Eat dinner. Blog. Sleep, hopefully without waking up six times because of the hot flashes and excess use of alcohol.
T.B.B. is back trying to get her stupid shoulder working again and I think she is a TROOPER. Okay so she thinks she needs to lose a few pounds but GAWD if I looked like her I'd be happier than a pig in shit. I haven't lost an ounce, though like most gals, I would like to lose at least a few pounds before "bikini season". I tell the men when they complain about needing to go on a diet to remember bikini season; I think they think I'm weird.
At least I don't think I'm clinically depressed, and I think I'm keeping life's usual anxieties under some sort of control, although I still have no patience for lousy drivers. OK Cookie: pass the rum.
Monday. Repeat.
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Going Away
When I get to a point where all I want to say is "GO AWAY" it's nice when it's me that actually does.
Like the jet setter I'm not, I just got back from a long weekend in Dallas "on business", which basically means I stayed in an overpriced hotel and ate too much on the company nickel and paid very little attention to what was happening at my meetings. It was all good.
When I checked in I was informed that my room wasn't ready, so in finding me an alternative I asked, coyly of course, if it would be an upgrade. A sly glance, a tickety-boo, and the hotel clerk said "All set [S.L.B.] - enjoy your stay!" When I got to my room BINGO - Executive Suite! I totally scored. Big, beautiful room with a cathedral view, so I was told. I think I saw it in the distance.
So the room was nice, but what about the fitness center??? Most hotel workout zones are small and stinky, the water cooler empty, the stability balls squishy and, at 5:00 a.m., good luck finding a clean towel. O.M.G. NOT! Huge space, all gleaming hardwood floors totally free of tumbleweeds, 12 dreadmills, a bunch of ellipticals, 5 bikes, about 30 weight machines, free weights, huge workout mat with mirrors, and 24/7. At 4:30 a.m. I was the only one there on Saturday morning - BINGO! BONUS: After a run I got to watch cartoons, partly because I couldn't figure out how to change the channel. Kinda warped me for the rest of the day.
Skimped on breakfast because the stupid meetings started at 8:00 a.m. but lunch and dinner out was a virtual feast. French fries, burgers, beer, meat on a stick, too many tapas (if there is such a thing), eating outdoors because it was warm, dessert, champagne, and, in the morning, a small hangover to work off on the dreadmill. Which is probably why I slipped getting into the bathtub on Sunday only to whomp my head on the floor when my feet went out from under me. Time to slow down.
NOT. Did a big day, ate out again, and did another run on Monday before flying home. It was a nice break from my routine, and, though I like my routine, one does get into a rut sometimes, especially during the winter season when I'm mostly stuck inside with only the stupid ideas in my head to entertain me.
Hotel fitness centers are not the friendliest places on earth but what can I expect at 5:00 a.m.? The bar isn't open yet. Nice to go away. Better to get home to my buddies at the Y. And I missed our nice big pool. Hotel pools are for kids, and there were no rules posted about not peeing in the pool.
Like the jet setter I'm not, I just got back from a long weekend in Dallas "on business", which basically means I stayed in an overpriced hotel and ate too much on the company nickel and paid very little attention to what was happening at my meetings. It was all good.
When I checked in I was informed that my room wasn't ready, so in finding me an alternative I asked, coyly of course, if it would be an upgrade. A sly glance, a tickety-boo, and the hotel clerk said "All set [S.L.B.] - enjoy your stay!" When I got to my room BINGO - Executive Suite! I totally scored. Big, beautiful room with a cathedral view, so I was told. I think I saw it in the distance.
So the room was nice, but what about the fitness center??? Most hotel workout zones are small and stinky, the water cooler empty, the stability balls squishy and, at 5:00 a.m., good luck finding a clean towel. O.M.G. NOT! Huge space, all gleaming hardwood floors totally free of tumbleweeds, 12 dreadmills, a bunch of ellipticals, 5 bikes, about 30 weight machines, free weights, huge workout mat with mirrors, and 24/7. At 4:30 a.m. I was the only one there on Saturday morning - BINGO! BONUS: After a run I got to watch cartoons, partly because I couldn't figure out how to change the channel. Kinda warped me for the rest of the day.
Skimped on breakfast because the stupid meetings started at 8:00 a.m. but lunch and dinner out was a virtual feast. French fries, burgers, beer, meat on a stick, too many tapas (if there is such a thing), eating outdoors because it was warm, dessert, champagne, and, in the morning, a small hangover to work off on the dreadmill. Which is probably why I slipped getting into the bathtub on Sunday only to whomp my head on the floor when my feet went out from under me. Time to slow down.
NOT. Did a big day, ate out again, and did another run on Monday before flying home. It was a nice break from my routine, and, though I like my routine, one does get into a rut sometimes, especially during the winter season when I'm mostly stuck inside with only the stupid ideas in my head to entertain me.
Hotel fitness centers are not the friendliest places on earth but what can I expect at 5:00 a.m.? The bar isn't open yet. Nice to go away. Better to get home to my buddies at the Y. And I missed our nice big pool. Hotel pools are for kids, and there were no rules posted about not peeing in the pool.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Room for Improvement
Did you hear that??? What do you think it is??? Why, YES, I think you're right - that's the sound of resolutions breaking all over the Y. And I thought it was my back creaking.
Do more! Get stronger and fitter! Improve your body and your well, uh, your body will do!
In a desperate bid to prove I'm not 50 and to lose the 2.8 ounces I gained during the holidays I ramped up my workouts and vowed to tweet (@keb12205) at least once a day (#gymjunkie). I proceeded then to tweet my back instead and got followed on Twitter by at least two lesbians and a commercial interest. What to do???
SOLUTION: I took 3 ibuprofen and two days off work to baby my back, skipped the tweets and as a tweet to myself I had a massage to help alleviate the pain and try to figure out what the f#@k was going on. DIAGNOSES: Basically I'm 50 and need to back off on the workouts, and (Resolution #4 is) DRINK MORE WATER. I wonder if beer counts as water??? Sigh. There's definitely room for improvement, but I think I'm trying too hard in all the wrong ways.
However, did we all read the article in the NYTimes about how yoga can wreck your body? Trust me, I'd rather wreck my body doing yoga or running too far or doing too many crunches or lifting too much weight or swimming too long, which apparently I have done, than eating nothing but Doritos and watching TV, which is just fine, by the way, if you're flat on your back from overdoing it at the gym, but not fine if you're just being a lazy sod. But I don't really WANT to be a wreck, I'd just rather die on a treadmill than on the couch with crumbs all over my tummy when the EMTs come to take me away.
QUESTION: Who watches infomercials? 30 minutes of a running ad to sell you 6 videos on how to wreck your body with a kettleball is just slightly stupider than watching back-to-back Frasier re-runs all morning, which I will NOT admit to.
And NO there was no "Jesus moment" if you are curious about how I hurt my back, like "Jesus, what did I do"? It snuck up on me like middle age itself.
Maybe I'll read a book. One with a spine that doesn't creak when you open it. Pass me my Kindle.
Do more! Get stronger and fitter! Improve your body and your well, uh, your body will do!
In a desperate bid to prove I'm not 50 and to lose the 2.8 ounces I gained during the holidays I ramped up my workouts and vowed to tweet (@keb12205) at least once a day (#gymjunkie). I proceeded then to tweet my back instead and got followed on Twitter by at least two lesbians and a commercial interest. What to do???
SOLUTION: I took 3 ibuprofen and two days off work to baby my back, skipped the tweets and as a tweet to myself I had a massage to help alleviate the pain and try to figure out what the f#@k was going on. DIAGNOSES: Basically I'm 50 and need to back off on the workouts, and (Resolution #4 is) DRINK MORE WATER. I wonder if beer counts as water??? Sigh. There's definitely room for improvement, but I think I'm trying too hard in all the wrong ways.
However, did we all read the article in the NYTimes about how yoga can wreck your body? Trust me, I'd rather wreck my body doing yoga or running too far or doing too many crunches or lifting too much weight or swimming too long, which apparently I have done, than eating nothing but Doritos and watching TV, which is just fine, by the way, if you're flat on your back from overdoing it at the gym, but not fine if you're just being a lazy sod. But I don't really WANT to be a wreck, I'd just rather die on a treadmill than on the couch with crumbs all over my tummy when the EMTs come to take me away.
QUESTION: Who watches infomercials? 30 minutes of a running ad to sell you 6 videos on how to wreck your body with a kettleball is just slightly stupider than watching back-to-back Frasier re-runs all morning, which I will NOT admit to.
And NO there was no "Jesus moment" if you are curious about how I hurt my back, like "Jesus, what did I do"? It snuck up on me like middle age itself.
Maybe I'll read a book. One with a spine that doesn't creak when you open it. Pass me my Kindle.
Saturday, January 7, 2012
Reflections
Hey, new treadmills - FINALLY. The TV monitors are set low instead of right in front of your face. Now I can see a reflection of the whole fitness center behind me laid before me. My feng shui energy has gone through the roof.
As you probably know, the window before sunrise acts like a great big mirror. In it I can see the reflection of the brand name of the treadmill, backwards. It reads "carT ratS". I think that's pretty funny.
I can also see myself. I start out white and cheerful and end up a red, drippy, ragged mess. A litte smoke and mirrors would be a good thing. So let's watch what's going on behind me instead, shall we???
Mostly I recognize everyone and mostly everyone is trying to ignore everyone else but are still watching what's going on without being obvious about it. This is considered "cool". If a friend walks by behind me we do waves in the glass. Gym Junkies know that big mirror shows all.
In daylight one can also see the parking lot and the sky and the trees and the weather. I love it. OR you can watch this little tart on your monitor put you through a fitness routine. OR you can watch movies off your iPod. I wonder what the Y will do the first time they catch some nut watching porn?
Lifting weights in front of that big mirror is also fun for making believe you are watching yourself pose when in fact you are watching the cute guy spotting the other cute guy behind you. I can also tell time backwards because I watch the clock in the mirror. I'm so clever.
There are NO mirrors in the spinning room, so you don't know what's going on behind you, which is why no one likes to take the bikes near the front of the closet. Bad feng shui there, folks.
I always thought, as I reflect here in my final bloggy moments, that those that practice feng shui and have mirrors carefully placed so they can see what's behind them are PARANOID. But now I think, besides trying to be calm and refreshed, that they are all really just spying on what's going on behind them because it's fun.
I'll end with a quote from Martin Mull: It's hard to decide if TV makes morons out of everyone, or if it mirrors Americans who really are morons to begin with. Maybe you should check out the tart, instead. Or pick a treadmill with TV monitor that isn't working. We already have two.
As you probably know, the window before sunrise acts like a great big mirror. In it I can see the reflection of the brand name of the treadmill, backwards. It reads "carT ratS". I think that's pretty funny.
I can also see myself. I start out white and cheerful and end up a red, drippy, ragged mess. A litte smoke and mirrors would be a good thing. So let's watch what's going on behind me instead, shall we???
Mostly I recognize everyone and mostly everyone is trying to ignore everyone else but are still watching what's going on without being obvious about it. This is considered "cool". If a friend walks by behind me we do waves in the glass. Gym Junkies know that big mirror shows all.
In daylight one can also see the parking lot and the sky and the trees and the weather. I love it. OR you can watch this little tart on your monitor put you through a fitness routine. OR you can watch movies off your iPod. I wonder what the Y will do the first time they catch some nut watching porn?
Lifting weights in front of that big mirror is also fun for making believe you are watching yourself pose when in fact you are watching the cute guy spotting the other cute guy behind you. I can also tell time backwards because I watch the clock in the mirror. I'm so clever.
There are NO mirrors in the spinning room, so you don't know what's going on behind you, which is why no one likes to take the bikes near the front of the closet. Bad feng shui there, folks.
I always thought, as I reflect here in my final bloggy moments, that those that practice feng shui and have mirrors carefully placed so they can see what's behind them are PARANOID. But now I think, besides trying to be calm and refreshed, that they are all really just spying on what's going on behind them because it's fun.
I'll end with a quote from Martin Mull: It's hard to decide if TV makes morons out of everyone, or if it mirrors Americans who really are morons to begin with. Maybe you should check out the tart, instead. Or pick a treadmill with TV monitor that isn't working. We already have two.
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Freak Show
Okay my first New Year's Resolution is this: I will be more accepting of others and embrace their differences as part of the gift of life.
NOT.
Today was Freak Show Day. The Fat Lady was in the hot tub. We get to see her for free, but in the days of yore you would have to pay at least a nickel to stare at her in a circus tent. After my swim I love to find a moment of peace in the warmth of that tub, but today I had to listen to her talk about herself and her accidents and knees and other weird shit to the other, nicer members willing to indulge her. The Black Swan is training to be a nurse. She smiled, and listened. Unlike me she needs no resolution to be a better person. I think nurses are angels. I would totally dope slap any patient that was that ridiculous. I wanted to whack her with my swim fins, the only weapon I had handy at the time.
My second New Year's Resolution is this: I will accept praise and criticism with equal attention and welcome the kind words and the comfort of strangers.
NOT.
So escaping the drama of the hot tub I enter the lair of the sauna. No shit The Illustrated Man and Rambo were in there discussing boys being shot in downtown Albany last night. I think Rambo is a cop. Lovely, redneck harp about the good old days and all the crazies out there. Their attention soon turned towards me and my bod. Now ain't that relaxing??? Hey, I wanted to say, why "do" Lark Street when you can just go to the Y if you want to talk to crazy folks??? But I didn't. I SMILED and said "Have A Nice Day" as I escaped to the locker room, thinking I might finally be safe.
NOT.
My third New Year's Resolution is this: I will not complain about every little thing and I will instead be positive and warm and friendly at all times.
NOT.
Bitch session about broken treadmills, the FitLinxx being pulled, bracing ourselves for an onslaught of new members in the New Year (the Y is always too busy in January with interlopers), and a jammed paper towel dispenser. Two thumbs down (very handy). If we want to keep the number of "active" members to a minimum I recommend collective bitchin' and cursin' and not sharin' - all very discouraging to the folks that joined today for free and the 50% plus of Americans that really NEED to start exercising and hate the gym before they even join. But I did very kindly show a woman who could have been a man how to get to the pool. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrr. I WANT to be nice, really I do!!!
My fourth New Year's Resolution is this: To show the ones I love that I really love them. Every day. This one I will promise to keep.
Happy New Year to all of you.
xxx
NOT.
Today was Freak Show Day. The Fat Lady was in the hot tub. We get to see her for free, but in the days of yore you would have to pay at least a nickel to stare at her in a circus tent. After my swim I love to find a moment of peace in the warmth of that tub, but today I had to listen to her talk about herself and her accidents and knees and other weird shit to the other, nicer members willing to indulge her. The Black Swan is training to be a nurse. She smiled, and listened. Unlike me she needs no resolution to be a better person. I think nurses are angels. I would totally dope slap any patient that was that ridiculous. I wanted to whack her with my swim fins, the only weapon I had handy at the time.
My second New Year's Resolution is this: I will accept praise and criticism with equal attention and welcome the kind words and the comfort of strangers.
NOT.
So escaping the drama of the hot tub I enter the lair of the sauna. No shit The Illustrated Man and Rambo were in there discussing boys being shot in downtown Albany last night. I think Rambo is a cop. Lovely, redneck harp about the good old days and all the crazies out there. Their attention soon turned towards me and my bod. Now ain't that relaxing??? Hey, I wanted to say, why "do" Lark Street when you can just go to the Y if you want to talk to crazy folks??? But I didn't. I SMILED and said "Have A Nice Day" as I escaped to the locker room, thinking I might finally be safe.
NOT.
My third New Year's Resolution is this: I will not complain about every little thing and I will instead be positive and warm and friendly at all times.
NOT.
Bitch session about broken treadmills, the FitLinxx being pulled, bracing ourselves for an onslaught of new members in the New Year (the Y is always too busy in January with interlopers), and a jammed paper towel dispenser. Two thumbs down (very handy). If we want to keep the number of "active" members to a minimum I recommend collective bitchin' and cursin' and not sharin' - all very discouraging to the folks that joined today for free and the 50% plus of Americans that really NEED to start exercising and hate the gym before they even join. But I did very kindly show a woman who could have been a man how to get to the pool. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrr. I WANT to be nice, really I do!!!
My fourth New Year's Resolution is this: To show the ones I love that I really love them. Every day. This one I will promise to keep.
Happy New Year to all of you.
xxx
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