Workin’ On My Fitness
March 28, 2011 § 2 Comments
I suppose fitness is a lifelong thing, like a marriage for which there is no divorce. I’ve been dating fitness since I was two years old after trying on my first tutu. My lover followed me to college where I danced on to the Michigan State Dance Team. We then moved to Boston and went into business together, teaching fitness classes between Red Sox games. As a result, I had the best buns in Beantown, but it couldn’t last forever. Career goals changed as they do and now in LA, our relationship is suffering. I’m still passionate about my fitness, don’t get me wrong, but finding the new ways to keep things spicy, making time, and getting in the mood isn’t always easy. I get bored with routine. The romance has vanished. Sure my fitness and I take the occasional aerobic class and sometimes we bust a move in the kitchen, but the vigor is gone. In an effort to be more spontaneous with my fitness, I am devoted to trying new things. Not outside of the realm of sex swings or acrobat training. If only I had a reliable partner. Dedicated to making this relationship work, I’ve been trying a variety of regimens and haven’t really found one that sticks. I get bored. It’s not about looking good, it’s about feeling good and treating your body like a temple. A temple of pain that you sweat buckets in and curse at.
New approach: I propose a buddy system, but not a spotter. In fact the more you dislike this person, the better. Everyday/week you check in with your fitness associate and see how you guys did. Did you go? What did you do? For how long? Did you feel the burn? How much did you sweat? Are you sore? Where are you sore? Can you walk up the stairs? Well, if you can walk up the stairs or sit on the toilet with out crying, you obviously didn’t work hard enough. The power of silent competition will motivate you beyond the prospect of buttoning your skinny jeans. It’s the reason why all the pretty people hung out together in high school. Instant rivals by proximity. Makes you try harder when you see your bestie getting attention from the 3rd hottest senior in the school. It’s totally because she got spray tanned yesterday and you didn’t. Either that, or because that varsity hockey player said she’d put out.
Bikini season is looming, ladies, we only have so much time. For me, I’m breaking out my leotard, fastening my jazz belt and putting a fitness associate in place for wedding season, bridal boot-camp. @twenty-six has a reunion and a similar goal, but I really like her so maybe we can find a third party we both really hate while we get fit. Like Gwyneth Paltrow, the more songs she sings, the skinnier I get. Enough already Gwenny, we don’t want to hear it. And should you really be acting that slutty on Glee after naming your child after a fruit?