Tonight I went with great excitement to the gym. What? I went to the gym willingly and excited? Yes, after two years at Women’s Workout World, I decided to get another consultation. When I went two years ago, I was quiet and fat and didn’t ask for anything specific–so I got my skinny girlfriend’s workout instead of an appropriate one for me.
I went back tonight with specific (if bizarre) needs.
I don’t want my calves to get any bigger. Stronger, yes, but no more muscle mass. Why? My knee high boots won’t fit if my calves are any bigger.
I do want my left arm to get stronger. I want to even out one year of scooping ice cream and not have a super strong right and super weak left.
I want to bust through this GD plateau I’ve been on since March and LOSE MORE WEIGHT. Yeah, I’m pretty hot now, but just imagine…. sigh.
Instead I get this wierd little pep talk about eating more fruit, consuming less caffiene, and doing abs every day. The chat is while we sit at a table, not as we work out or I am taught some new moves or machines to use. When I asked for that, she seemed surprised. “Oh, okay.” This is very important and this machine and focus on this machine and do this machine not everyday.
THanks. Over the “strong weights” I could see the yoga class. A class I have on my outlook calendar and programmed into my phone calendar. A class I try to make a priority. A class I missed so I could be told to eat more fruit.
I left without working out because I was so frustrated that I didn’t get good advice. I walked down Lawrence Avenue fighting back tears about not going to Yoga. I realize the tears are more about lack of sleep and PMS than Yoga, but I couldn’t help but get choked up.
Tomorrow is Pilates and I’ll recover from missing Yoga.
I can’t believe I just wrote that sentence. I’ll recover from missing Yoga. Who am I?