Happy new year! Oh, I said that already, didn't I? I must say, I love wishing people a happy new year. You don't have to worry that the person you are greeting doesn't celebrate it and will be offended. Everyone is stuck with the Roman calendar.* Not like that other holiday. Damn you, War on Christmas! O'Reilly is right, everyone should just celebrate Jesus' birth and learn to love it so that I will have an easier time with my salutations for a couple of weeks each year.
Guess what I did today? I worked out! At the GYM. I can tell you are not impressed but you should be. You see, I have never joined a gym, and I've only worked out about three times in my entire life.** I used to sort of scorn the gym. Why would you run on a treadmill, I would sneer, when there is perfectly good sidewalk to run on? Or ride a stationary bike, when you could ride a bike that will GO somewhere?
But let's face it--I was being kind of a poophead when I sneered these things. Because really, that attitude is all very well in the summer, but in the winter (especially a winter such as we have had so far, with the snowing and the freezing) you can't be outside very long before all of your appendages just fall right off.
The truth is (and it pains me to admit this), my gym-directed scorn was merely a sad self-defense mechanism intended to hide my many gym-related phobias. They ranged from your standard-but-insane "I'm not in good enough shape to go to the gym"-type phobias right up to phobias about not understanding how to use the machines and somehow pulling a lever that either caused the machine to explode, thus killing me or (worse) caused me to fall spectacularly off the back of the machine, landing with a crash in a cloud of smoke, probably to the sarcastic slow claps of my fellow gym members, and thereafter leaving me unable to show my face in a gym--ANY gym--ever again.
But now, suddenly, I have overcome these gym fears and I am ALL ABOUT IT. I want to be the buffest, baddest librarian in town. I want to be able to pick Mr. Awesome up over my head and throw him twenty yards. How long will this mania for buffness last, you ask? Probably not too long, if past history is any indicator. But at least now I know how the machines work.
*Yeah, I know, the Chinese New Year is later and whatever but I think my point still stands.
**In a gym, I mean. I've exercised, duh. Don't look at me like that.
2 comments:
Why did I hear the "Rocky" theme playing in my head while I read this? I commend your gym efforts. I prefer my exercise in the form of outdoors walks -(which you can actually do year-round here)- because I don't actually have to look at or talk to anyone. Because I'm just that much of a misanthrope.
Lass, I don't talk to anyone at the gym, and that's how I like it. Some friends of mine were bragging this weekend about the fancy gyms they go to where employees follow you around with fresh towels, and that sounded like a total nightmare to me. I got to the Y.
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