When I am an old woman I shall wear a swimsuit on the treadmill.

Good morning!

My grandmother has always loved purple.  So, since I can remember, she's incorporated purple into her wardrobe.  When the book "When I am an Old Woman I shall wear Purple," came out we immediately thought of her.  I still do, so many years later.

I bring this up because when most of us think of old ladies, we think of old ladies who were purple hats or sweatshirts with birds on them, or things like that.

And when we think of what people should wear to the gym, we think of sweat pants and shorts and t-shirts and jog bras.

Weird transitional thought?  Bear with me.

Yesterday I went to Gold's  after what I like to think of as a bit of a break.  Okay, it was about six weeks and basically I was too blah and busy to go, and I forgot to pack shoes one time and then I didn't have a water bottle and it was hot...and whatever!

So yesterday I got there and was feeling pretty good.  The scale informed me I'd lost about 3 pounds in 6 six weeks.  Given what I have eaten and haven't exercised in that amount of time, I was pretty happy to see a negative number instead of a massive gain.

I then headed to Cardio Cinema where it's dark and no one judges you.  Until now.  I was getting a pretty good sweat going on a treadmill when an older lady walked past me.  Granted it was dark, but it was really hard to miss what she was wearing. 

For the pool, yes.  For the treadmill
NO!

She was wearing a one piece swim suit, complete with ballerina type frilly skirt.  I am not making this up.  She strode past me in her one piece swim suit. 

Now I'm one to put the best construction on everything at first.  So I figured she was coming in to have a word with someone and then she was headed to the pool.

Nope.  She got on a recumbent bike and started pedaling.  Hard. 

Wipe down the seat
with disinfectant please!

Not since Jennifer Lopez wore that basically naked green dress to the Grammies have I thought, "Oh Sweetie, put down a paper
liner on your seat before you sit down."

Until yesterday. 

I looked at that old lady on that bike wearing that one piece swimsuit with the frilly skirt and her old lady work out shoes...and I said, "EWWWWW!"

And then I made very sure I didn't get on the same bike she'd been on.

As I was leaving Gold's, I saw her continue her work out.  (Again, it's really hard to miss a fat old lady...oh didn't mention she was a fluffy girl, about my size?  Yeah, she was very fluffy...in a swimsuit working out like everything is normal.)  She was on a treadmill, sweating away with the 20 somethings.  Now granted, she probably had more material in her one piece suit with the frilly skirt than the 20 somethings had in their spandex shorts and fitted yoga tops.  BUT, with the 20 somethings, there was ZERO chance of fanny cheek slipping out of those shorts.   Getting a wide view of wrinkly old lady fanny was a VERY REAL POSSIBILITY.

If you must work out
in a swim suit, this would
be okay...

 I guess my point of this is two fold:  First, it is clear that not everyone has been listening to my summer fashion suggestions.  (Yes, I'm also talking to the mom who thought it was okay to go to the grocery store in her swim suit.  Yes, the shorts were okay, the no, no one should have to stand next to you in line and wonder if the stress you're putting your swim top straps under will finally destroy those little straps and we will all get a great view of your...well let's just call them saggy glands, shall we?)  Second...work out clothes are work out clothes.  And swimsuits are NOT work out clothes.  If you forgot shorts and a shirt and all you have is a swimsuit, that is God's way of telling you it's a POOL DAY.

Meanwhile, I'm too traumatized to work out today.  I need to lie down.

Happy Independence Day to all my American friends!  God Bless America!

(And stay away from the liquor if you're going to set off fireworks.)

If I do the happy dance of joy at the gym...does that count as a workout?

Good afternoon all!

So I went with Dee to "Silver's"  last night. (Names are changed to protect those who have a sense of humor from those who do not.)

My frustration with the entire process of joining Silver's has been well documented.  The high pressure sales tactics that got me to sign on the dotted line made me feel stupid, on top of really super fat.  The only reason I didn't quit right then and there was...well...I couldn't. (Well, unless I died.  Then I get out of my contract with Silver's.)

And, of course, we all know about Steve, the crumb blowing trainer.

My continued frustration moved to a new phase yesterday as I was preparing to go to Silver's to get Dee a membership under their new "sale."  Last week I'd called to ask about the enrollment fee.  (Enrollment fees, for those of you not in the know, is the ridiculous amount of money health clubs charge up front, unless you make a face like you're going to walk out the door, then they cancel it.  Enrollment fees are the appendix of the health club contract.  Nice to have, but if you have to lose it, you're still good.)  I asked the woman "Is there an enrollment fee for anyone joining under this sale?"  She said, and I quote, "NO."

So yesterday I called Ryan, a pleasant young man I've spoken to before.  I again asked the question about the enrollment fee.  He said, "Oh, there's a PROCESSING $49 fee to join." 

This started a phone exchange I won't bore you with, but I believe I said something to the effect of, "Ryan, it doesn't matter what you want to call it, an enrollment fee, a processing fee, a SCREW YOU fee, the fact is that I was told on Friday there was no fee and now you're telling me that there's a $49 fee."

Funny how things get passed around. 

When we get to Silver's, Ryan wasn't there.  (I have my own thoughts on the matter, but mostly I think big bad Sarah scared another young un into hiding.  Which is funny because I'm generally thought of, by those who know me, as a big honkin' doormat.)  Instead, we were met by a gentleman named Mark.  Mark seemed jovial enough, he gave us a very nice tour of the place, Dee and I liked him very much.  When we sat in his office getting all the paperwork together, Mark pulled up my account. The first thing he did was give me a good long stare.

I hate being stared at.  It makes me feel...fat.

"You're hair is shorter and..."

I realized he was looking at my club picture. 

Okay, I should explain about that picture.  It's terrible.  It may very well be the worst picture I've ever taken, and I have a drivers' license and a passport picture I'm not too fond of.  It was one of those days I went to the club before I prettied up.  Which should give you some idea of how horrible it was.  Plus I didn't want to have my picture taken, plus it was 800 degrees in that stupid unairconditioned building.  So that picture makes me look like a big, fat, sweaty, greasy, angry, stoner.  (My eyes were, predictably, closed.)

We had a good laugh about that picture, Mark, Dee, and I.  Then he started working on Dee's contract.  And he said, "You'll have to pay your first months', last months' , and, of course, your 'screw you' fee."

Friends, it's been a very long time since I actually wet my pants, but Dee and I were laughing so hard, I nearly did this time out.  Apparently Ryan, in his desire to escape seeing Big Bad Sarah, had to give a reason he was afraid of a chunky middle aged woman he could easily out run without breaking a sweat.  My picture should have done the trick, but the note 'screw you fee' just adds more mystery to the beast that is me!

From that moment on, it was a lovely time there in Mark's office.  No high pressure.  No lies.  No brushing certain facts under the rug.  I loved it, and I told Dee I was jealous of the way her signing on was going.

Then they got to the part where Dee was going to get her two free sessions with a trainer. Mark asked if Dee had a preference, male or female.  I said, "as long as it's not crumb blowing Steve, you'll be good."

Dee, of course, reads this blog.  She knows Crumb Blowing Steve.  We had a good laugh.  Mark looked befuddled for a moment, then nodded his head.  "I know who you're talking about.  He no longer works here."

Sometimes good things just keep happening all in a row.

Mark brought in Kate the personal trainer coordinator person,  and the two of them started talking a bit about how things at this Silver's had improved since the start.  (Turns out, I've been at that Silver's longer than they had.) I mentioned the bumpy start to my enrollment and another name came up.  I'll call him Walter, because I can't even laugh at how that man left me feeling once I'd gone through his high pressure sales tactics.

It appears, Walter is also no longer there. 


Better yet, Kate, bless her heart, is giving me two more sessions with a trainer she promises will not blow donut crumbs at me and one who knows who Rick Springfield is.  Then Mark had Very Nice Ken make us smoothies and we danced a dance of joy.

After much reflection, I've decided Karma is a funny thing.  And what we can take away from this is that if you lie to a fat woman, or blow donut crumbs at her, bad things will happen.

Now, Ryan, if you're out there...you have no need to be afraid of me.  Really.  I generally don't bite, no matter what my picture looks like! 

Planning is key to a good workout routine.

Good afternoon!

I was on the phone last night with "Dee"  my friend and exercise partner.  Now, when I say exercise partner I mean that this summer we were going to walk together once a week every week.

And we did!

For three weeks.

Then it was the weather, or the heat, or the kids, or something at church, or...and I'll be totally honest here, we just flat out didn't feel like it.  Okay, even more honest, I didn't feel like it.

Well, there was that one time we got together, but we drove, and we met at Starbucks so I don't think that counts as exercise.

Since Dee is the thinner of the two of us, it is my fault we haven't gotten together like we should.  I'll take the heat for it. I should have been down 20 of the 70 pounds I need to lose before Rick Springfield makes his way to Southeastern Wisconsin again.   Not the case...bad Sarah!

Well, since my gym is having this MASSIVE GIGANTIC SALE on memberships Dee is going to join.  (As will my family, but honestly, do I want to be working out with the KIDS?  Not!)  So we're meeting tonight after I get done stretching out the cheerleaders at their practice.  (Somehow, someone decided I was qualified to teach young girls how to stretch...insert your hysterical laughter here.)



Anyway, I was on the phone last night with Dee, who wanted a little more info on the gym before she gets there...most importantly what the trainer, Ryan, looked like. 

"Is he cute?"

Okay, Peaches and The Man  (My new name for the hubby) were sitting right there.  How does a married woman describe a cute guy to another woman while in earshot of her daughter and her husband?

The good news is that Ryan is not my type.  First of all, he looks too much like Steve the Crumb Blowing Trainer that destroyed any desire I have for working with a trainer.  Second of all, he's young and blond.  I like my men like I like my coffee...hot, dark, and maybe not so fresh...(insert your grossed out noises here.)  So for me, to explain to Dee that Ryan was hardly my type was easy.  "I didn't notice."  (Only a partial lie.  OF COURSE I noticed his muscles, the way his shirt fit, his tan...I just didn't notice his face...)

Dee inserted her hysterical laughter.  Once she regained her composure, we had to discuss an even more important topic:  Was our new plan to work out going to interfere with the upcoming "Biggest Loser" season?  (Because, you know, that's when we watch the show, drink wine, and eat chocolate.  We can't have exercise getting the the way of THAT!) 

Well, we decided that once the season started, we would work out BEFORE the show and then repair to one of our own homes to partake of wine and chocolate.

I love it when a plan comes together like it should.

Anyway, the gym membership sale is ridiculous, and if you'd like to join on my membership, and you live in the Waukesha, WI area, drop me a message, we'll get it worked out.  No enrollment fee, and you won't pay more than $25 a month.  All for the pleasure of torturing yourself a couple times a week....month....whatever!