Ahhhhh, yes! First week of the new year.
That magical time of the year where I consider taking aspirin to thin out my blood so I don't suffer a stroke from the rage-inducing gym newbies pissing me off.
But there's a perk that I do love from all this: the specials on gym attire!
I live in that shit.
I'm currently crossing my fingers for a discount on these babies... because they're at the summit of my wish-list. They're so fucking majestic... and expensive. Mmmmm.
But until that happens, I just go around buying enough sports bras to fit a soccer team.
Anyway, I've been good about this new onslaught of gym newbies. I'm taking my resolution seriously.
I walk in the gym with a smile on my face, and I've helped out two newbies already.
I also didn't chew out some 50-year-old Kevin-James-lookin'-ass who invaded my space this afternoon during my lifting session.
I did glare at him a couple of times... when I was clean-and-pressing and the idiot was too close for me to perform the lift correctly.
I HAD to glare... because come on, that shit is dangerous... for both of us.
Speaking of dangerous, today I almost died.
Ok, no, it wasn't that dramatic, but I did risk serious injury.
At the gym, I was feeling confident, so I increased my squat weight by twenty pounds (hey, that's huge for me, ok?).
I performed exactly TWO full squats, and on my third, just as I hit the bottom of the squat, I suffered a laugh-attack.
Let me tell you, laughing while in a squatting position... while holding a heavy-ass bar across your back, is NOT the smartest thing you can do.
It felt TERRIBLE. And I got stuck.
I felt so weak...
And I got scared.
OH FUCK! MY KNEES! I'm going to blow out my fucking knees!
AND I WAS STILL GIGGLING!
It wasn't until I thought of how STUPID I would look toppling over with a bar across my back (the noise! Imagine the NOISE!)... possibly hurting others, that I gained my composure and focused on getting un-stuck.
I bared down, straightened out, quickly released the weight, and then continued to laugh like a hyena... even if my "core" felt like I had just taken a serrated knife to it.
Then my face felt hot and I almost cried.
How did I keep myself from crying?
I thought, Hey, at least I wasn't this guy:
Fuck. That.
What induced my laugh-attack? As I hit the third squat, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror... and the position I was in reminded me of Darcy. Well, more like a move in which Drunk Darcy was trying to educate the rest of the room on Saturday. He was teaching us how to take a proper shit... you know, in case we were ever stuck in the woods and needed to bust out our best Bear Grylls skills.
The moment I thought of that was the moment I lost control and fucked up.
I'll now have to think of... my parents murdering our pet rabbit, just so I can keep from laughing each time I have to squat.
Something tells me I'm going to have some fun in Gymland this year (or I'll just incur a terrible--but possibly hilarious-- injury)!
That magical time of the year where I consider taking aspirin to thin out my blood so I don't suffer a stroke from the rage-inducing gym newbies pissing me off.
But there's a perk that I do love from all this: the specials on gym attire!
I live in that shit.
I'm currently crossing my fingers for a discount on these babies... because they're at the summit of my wish-list. They're so fucking majestic... and expensive. Mmmmm.
But until that happens, I just go around buying enough sports bras to fit a soccer team.
Anyway, I've been good about this new onslaught of gym newbies. I'm taking my resolution seriously.
I walk in the gym with a smile on my face, and I've helped out two newbies already.
I also didn't chew out some 50-year-old Kevin-James-lookin'-ass who invaded my space this afternoon during my lifting session.
I did glare at him a couple of times... when I was clean-and-pressing and the idiot was too close for me to perform the lift correctly.
I HAD to glare... because come on, that shit is dangerous... for both of us.
Speaking of dangerous, today I almost died.
Ok, no, it wasn't that dramatic, but I did risk serious injury.
At the gym, I was feeling confident, so I increased my squat weight by twenty pounds (hey, that's huge for me, ok?).
I performed exactly TWO full squats, and on my third, just as I hit the bottom of the squat, I suffered a laugh-attack.
Let me tell you, laughing while in a squatting position... while holding a heavy-ass bar across your back, is NOT the smartest thing you can do.
It felt TERRIBLE. And I got stuck.
I felt so weak...
And I got scared.
OH FUCK! MY KNEES! I'm going to blow out my fucking knees!
AND I WAS STILL GIGGLING!
It wasn't until I thought of how STUPID I would look toppling over with a bar across my back (the noise! Imagine the NOISE!)... possibly hurting others, that I gained my composure and focused on getting un-stuck.
I bared down, straightened out, quickly released the weight, and then continued to laugh like a hyena... even if my "core" felt like I had just taken a serrated knife to it.
Then my face felt hot and I almost cried.
How did I keep myself from crying?
I thought, Hey, at least I wasn't this guy:
 |
| Somebody please punch that "trainer." |
What induced my laugh-attack? As I hit the third squat, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror... and the position I was in reminded me of Darcy. Well, more like a move in which Drunk Darcy was trying to educate the rest of the room on Saturday. He was teaching us how to take a proper shit... you know, in case we were ever stuck in the woods and needed to bust out our best Bear Grylls skills.
The moment I thought of that was the moment I lost control and fucked up.
I'll now have to think of... my parents murdering our pet rabbit, just so I can keep from laughing each time I have to squat.
Something tells me I'm going to have some fun in Gymland this year (or I'll just incur a terrible--but possibly hilarious-- injury)!
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