Angry Gym Joining

       

         As a mom, my year begins in September not January.  And, fittingly, that’s when I make my many New Year’s resolutions.  For myself, for my children and/or for life in general.  Among the yearly repeats is the old reliable “I am going to be healthier and exercise more.”  Hahahaha!  How many times have we all told that lie to ourselves?!  And sworn that this time we really meant it?  Shockingly, this year, it worked.   I joined a gym.  I go there 2-3 times a week. AND I actually use the equipment.  (Although I really just want to walk around with a giant bag of snickers noshing and breathing that yummy chocolate breath all over everyone as they sweat on the treadmills.  Is that wrong?)

         This did not happen due to my diligence or willpower but largely due to a metaphorical gun to my head.  And I was pissed about it.  The poor guy who signed me up was very nice and not prepared for the venom that spewed forth from my lips when he innocently asked, “Why are you interested in joining?  What are your goals?”  I wonder what most people say... I imagine them shy and full of hope, “Well, I’d like to be a better me.”  Or maybe “The holidays have crept up on me [insert embarrassed giggle] and on my hips.”  (I’m speaking for us ladies.  That’s why I didn’t say, “I want to be a beefcake that all the chicks drool over.”  I’m assuming that’s most men’s motivating force.)  Not me.  I ranted. 

         It went something like (make sure you read the italics whiny) this,  “Well, I don’t want to join.  I hate exercise.  I’ve always hated it.  But now, I’m over 40.  Before I could get away with not exercising because at least I still had my youth!  Well, not anymore!  And heart disease and cancer are lurking in the shadows but they might stay away if I exercise. And, osteoporosis is just around the corner unless I do weight bearing exercise.  So really, [take breath] this is as good as it gets!  I’m on the decline!  It’s all down hill from here!  The bloom of youth is slipping away and my ass isn’t getting any smaller is it?  So you tell me, what choice do I have except to join your stupid gym?! ‘Cause if you can think of one please tell me, please!”

         [Crickets]

         I think that when they take you to the office to sign up they usually suggest things like personal training and bigger packages to start you off with a bang.  In the silence that followed my diatribe, he abandoned all of his usual speeches and just slid the form across the desk.  He made it all as quick as possible while trying not to incense me further and silently cursing management for not putting in metal detectors.  

         As he ushered me out of the office and into a public space where he felt safer, he told me that as a new member I was entitled to an hour with a trainer to put together a routine.  At the front desk, he consulted the schedule and helped me find a day that worked.  (Although now I realize he never offered his own name as an option!)  I thanked him sheepishly and hoped I hadn’t scared him too much.  Now every time I see him at the desk, I wonder if he is wondering whether he should search my gym bag for something dangerous.  I don’t think I am overreacting.  I never do that….