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Tuesday, April 01, 2008

Spring break is officially over.

I thought I could avoid my trainer for a few days while I tried to undo some of the damage of Spring Break. I did do some exercise, mostly bicep curls, with these weights:

And I did some Yoga, too, mostly keg stands handstands after all those bicep curls. I wish I had done Yoga back in the day, because I would have been seriously awesome at keg stands. My sister claims she can still do them, but I haven't seen it. Maybe I'll have a keg party next time she comes home. And I don't even drink beer, so it would be a selfless act. My classy, classy family has indulged in the occasional Plank-Off* during a party, which means keg stands are only one or two drinks away.

My trainer left me a message yesterday, looking to schedule a session. I left her a message in return. I waited a while to call back, hoping someone else would have snapped up her available times and I could pretend to be disappointed. No such luck. When I got to the gym, she snapped at me to jump on the treadmill, at a one incline and 5.5 miles per hour. I should have done that, but I am so, so stupid. Of course I had to go faster and at a higher incline. Of course. And she wasn't even finished with her other client yet. She seems so nice, my trainer, but she is not nice. She once poked me under my arm with her fingernail, repeatedly, to point out some fat that was displeasing to her. I didn't even know about that fat, because I don't make a habit of looking there.

She made me do really hard stuff. And she was smiling. She told me I should ask my husband if he'd let me do two sessions a week. I would do that, but I'm deathly afraid he would say yes.

I'm going to see her again on Friday, not because I want to, but because we're going to some ballet Champagne/perfprmance/dinner thing Friday night and, duh, there will be scrawny dancers there. I want to have fun, not feel like a hippo. Therefore, all the Goldfish crackers I just scarfed in Target notwithstanding, I will not be eating any carbs this week. Now you know just how very, very shallow I am!

Namasté, y'all!

* Confession: I'm the one who instigated the Plank-Off, which I lost on purpose, dear baby brother, to save you. My brother was 19 and I was pushing 30. I looked up during the Plank-Off and, seeing his grim look of concentration, decided to give up, because I knew he would give himself a hernia before letting an old mother of two win. And I so didn't want to get in trouble with mom.

"Look what you've done now! You gave your brother a hernia! GO TO YOUR ROOM!"

To be honest, I probably would have lost in the end to my cousin, a recent Citadel graduate who looked completely at ease during the whole, short contest.


Lizzie said...

Didn't I outlast your scrawny biceps at the wedding dress shop in '04? Or did mom just make us stop before a victor emerged? We had found our bridesmaid dresses. How else to spend our free time?

Anne Wolfe Postic said...

I do believe you're right. And I challenge you to a rematch. Bring it!

Anne Wolfe Postic said...

Also, as you can see from the picture, my bicep weights are not very heavy, usually between four and six ounces.

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