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12:54 p.m. - 2011-03-22
Workin' It

Made good on my promise to the MIL and went back to the gym today. Also made good on my promise to Mick and didn't kick my own ass by going too heavy and hard. Five months away was long enough to lose pretty much everything I'd gained anyhow. Strength and endurance-wise, I mean. Because really my main occupation for the last five months has been gaining weight. I am one fluffy cupcake these days. About the only up thing I can say is that I didn't outgrow my fat pants.

It was odd yet not completely weird to be back at PF. MIL and I fell right back into our routine, hadn't forgotten how to use the machines or anything. One new thing, I encouraged her to stretch with me before we got on the treadmill. (And, OY, is my time for the mile way off!) MIL does more upper body stuff than I do, whereas I spend some time on the butt and leg machines. I'm guessing the warrantee is up on my bionic knee, it protested LOUDLY on the prone leg lift machine. You'd think the knee that's held together with teflon and titanium would be the happier one of the two, especially considering the un-enhanced knee has had to support my lardy self for 48 years now without any help. But there you go. The one that's had to get along on its own is an uncomplaining trooper, but the knee that was rebuilt and cosseted and given all kinds of attention and therapy after I busted it up on a 7th grade ski trip is bitchy and whiny and full of crank-ass complaints.

Much like the person that's attached to it. Jesus please us, I have been an absolute pill recently. As I told my darling Anna this morning, there's nothing specific to hang this foul mood on. Wolf's behaving. Mick's been a sweetie. Money is okay. There's the usual dings and glitches with the house and the electronics but nothing extraordinary. I have a bad rash in my left armpit, some kind of thrush, I'm guessing. And the rest of my outer carcass seems to be on a sympathy strike with my armpit- I am covered with little itchy bumps and scaly patches. Attractive, no? But I truly believe the wretched skin stuff is a result of my cranky ugly mood, not the cause. My skin has always been the place my emotional stuff manifests in the physical. Some people get ulcers or migraines, I get rashes and disgusting bouts of eczema. I suppose I should be grateful it's not zits. Gratitude, however, is in short supply right now. I'm feeling mean.

Anyway, back to the gym. There were a few decent pieces of eye candy this morning, new guys who I'm hoping are regulars. Makes the workout much more pleasant. Trust me, it's just a little discrete ogling, unlike some people such as Uncle Frank, the gross-o 70 year old letch. He was there this morning peacocking around same as ever. MIL and I had a good giggle over how even I was about 30 years too old for Uncle Frank to put the moves on. That creepy dude is only interested in barely post-pubescent chicks. There were a few other regulars I remembered from before. Old Elvis was there. Still working the greasy grey pompadour DA hairdo and wraparound shades. Ned Flanders was in attendance too. I've yet to figure out what Ned's gig is. Young-ish, OCD tidy, pleasant looking ala Ned Flanders, hence the nickname. I've spoken with him a couple of times and he came across as really dim, yet is sanely dressed and seems pretty normal otherwise. Why is a guy who looks like a Driver's Ed teacher and has good dental hygiene and aside from not being very swift hanging out at PF at 9:00am on a weekday morning? It's not polite to ask, but Ned does make me wonder.

YAY! Isaac Hayes was in the house this morning. I love this guy. He seems to know everybody. Always a kind word and never hogs the machines like some of the guys do. Pretty easy on the eyes too. I was delighted to see Grandma Sophia was still there chugging away. A tiny dumpling of a woman, she just tickles me as she goes along doing her routine, tissues sticking out of the cuff of her sparkly kitten sweatshirt. Grandma Sophia futzes around on the machines for a little bit then gets on the treadmill and marches on the tread at about 1mph. Arms held chest-high, "Don't fuck with me" scowl on her face. It's her or the treadmill, baby. And Grandma Sophia wins every time.

I don't think I'd want to know what the old time regulars call me. There were a couple of nods of recognition this morning, but no effusive greetings. Even after 5 months away my return didn't go completely unnoticed. A 6' tall chick with ginormous sagging boobs and eccentric sticky-up hair is kind of hard to miss. Throw in that after the first 10 minutes of hard work my big round face goes bright red…ew. To the regulars I'm probably 'Tomato Head the Amazon'. Then again, I'm always with my teeny MIL so maybe we are looked upon as a pair. A distaff version of Spike and Chester.

Feh. Not even a good solid workout made a dent in this pissy mood of mine. In the plus column MIL was dead grateful to get the flock out of her house for a little while and got to have a nice chat with someone who isn't senile. I do get plenty of good from my trips to the gym, but mostly my reason to go is so MIL gets a break from Alzheimer duty and has some human contact with the outside world. She is such a dear and loves me so much! I'd have to be a complete clod not to do this with/for her. How great is it that not only did I get a terrific husband this time, I got a fabulous, loving, non-judgmental, absolute sweetheart of a mother-in-law in the bargain?

Yes, despite the foul murk around me at the mo' I am aware of how lucky I am.

Anyhoodle, please be advised that LA is back at the gym and you can count on Tuesday's and Friday's entries to be some boring crap about how badass I was on the pec-deck and crowing about my snail-like incremental progress to up my time for the mile.


Much love, ~LA the Tomato Head Amazon

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