I started being a little hardcore in the gym a few weeks ago. “Hardcore” for me, of course, is a relative term, and you’ll note that my hardcoreness conveniently coincided with packing for the Jersey shore and realizing–oh, crap, a whole week in a bathing suit. I’ve been going to the gym off and on for the last few years thanks to Kamran’s prodding and the lingering guilt that comes with living in an apartment building that has a gym right inside, but I’ve mostly done as little as possible: using the stationary bike so I can sit, ramping up the resistance on the elliptical just enough that I have an excuse to go slow, anything else that’ll keep me from sweating. Because eww, sweat.
But then I got on the stairclimber the other day because all of the ellipticals were taken by those stupid girls who wear sports bras without shirts and then hold on to the handrails so they can move just their legs a hundred miles a minute. I have no idea what would compel someone to think that’s any kind of workout, but hey, it’s probably better than sitting quietly on the stationary bike and hoping no one notices that my legs aren’t moving at all, so instead of kicking one of them off of the elliptical, I just took the stairclimber. And then I sweated and sweated and sweated, because that shit is hard. And I. Felt. Awesome.
Now (meaning for the past few days), I totally scorn everyone in the gym who doesn’t appear to be working as hard as I am. 80-year-old lady only doing eight reps on the chest press? I SEE YOU. Superfat dude on the spinning bike going negative miles per hour? I SEE YOU. Oh, you’ve already lost 63 pounds doing that? I STILL JUDGE YOU.
I’m also really excited about eating “well” right now. I’m reading Gary Taubes Why We Get Fat, and I haven’t even gotten to the part where he tells me to stop eating refined grains and processed crap, but I still spent most of Sunday afternoon prepping vegetables and fruits and multigrain crackers and lean meats to take in the teeny-tiny totally-not-enough-food-to-feed-a-real-human bento box that I bought years ago and then never used when I got excited about Adventures in Bentomaking for a very, very short time.
I’m also really excited about saving money right now. I make myself a yearly budget, and I generally stick to it so I don’t end up out on the streets, but I’m never very precise. Well, I sat down the other day and really figured out exactly how much cash I have to spend every week, and then I went and took this week’s allowance out of the bank. And when I bought my stepmom’s birthday present online today, I went and put the equivalent amount of cash back in the bank. I thought about buying a pair of jeans when I got home, but then I stopped myself and actually had superiority feelings about my self-control.
I know myself, though, and I know how short-lived all of this is. I’ll get bored of the gym and will go back to spending half my time there cleaning my weight machines and filling up my itsy-bitsy water cooler cup over and over. I’ll really want some chicken fingers and then some pizza and then some ice cream and then a whole week of burgers and fries. I’ll scrimp and save for months and then one day explode into a fireball of Forever 21 leggings and BareMinerals lipstick and Nikon macro lenses, all bought on credit. It’s like I’m only good so I can later be so, so bad.
27 Comments
Oh man I hope you stay all tough ass on the workouts because then I can pretend that I’ve influenced you and totally take credit when you feel fabulous and fit into all kinds of skinny clothes. Because it would be my influence, not Cassie’s, obviously.
The spending, I care less about. Because if you’re being good with money you won’t come visit me.
Oh, man, I can’t believe all of the comments turned into good-job-keep-it-up affirmations. I forgot that everyone in the world is on a diet. If I plank, it’ll be because of you.
Stop going to the gym and spend more money*!! Sorry .. I had to bring some balance to this thread.
* not so much that you won’t be able to afford paying rent.
What if she spends money to join your gym so you can get the $50 bonus for referring a friend?
But you already told me you won’t kick me out even if I can’t pay my rent for months and months or even forever. Right? That’s what I took away from that conversation.
That’s awesome! Way to go on the stair climber. I hate that thing. Instead of staring at and judging others at the gym, I have this constant fear that everyone is staring at and judging me.
And just last week I said to Mark, “You know this whole exercise and diet thing would be awesome if I didn’t like tacos and ice cream so much.”
You can do it!
I tooooootally think everyone at the gym is looking at me, too. It’s the thing that keeps me from running on the treadmill instead of just walking on a really intense incline. I’ve realized that I have no idea how to run on that thing, and I’m sure not teaching myself in front of a bunch of shirtless girls.
Cassie would tell you that you can absolutely eat all of the tacos and ice cream you want if you just spend eight hours a day at the gym. No big deal.
So proud of you with the stairclimber – I hate that thing! I confess I don’t always have the healthiest of habits, but I do okay.
Don’t worry! Your $1000-a-week crack habit is totally supporting the local economy!
I’ve also just recently begun a diet/exercise program. My regular pattern is lose weight, then gain it all back, plus some. This time around it’s doctor-mandated, which I guess should make it easier but really just makes me angry. Anyway, all that to say I so get it.
I dieted once. I lost enough weight that people noticed and told me really uncomplimentary things like, “Oh, thank god you finally did something about it.” Then I gained it back. But I kept the Facebook profile picture.
That “Why We Get Fat” book actually talks about how ridiculous it is that doctors demand that we lose weight. Like all it takes is for some official guy to tell us it has to be done. “Oh, you mean all I had to do this entire time is eat less? I HAD NO IDEA.”
I once lost a bunch of weight and gained it all back (plus some), too! My doctor just kind of strongly suggested I lose weight … heh. I mean, I obviously always knew I should, and I obviously know how to do it. It’s definitely harder than him just saying the magic words: “Lose weight! Alacazam!” It helps a little, but it’s no magic bullet.
My dad had a friend who had diabetes, and his doctor said, “Quit drinking beer, or you’ll lose your feet.” And the guy said he’d rather drink beer. I think that might be my approach to dieting, too.
Exercising was a lot more fun before I had arthritis, and it’s certainly not pleasant in the 100-plus-degree heat of Louisiana in the summertime. But hey, that’s what early mornings and gyms are for, right? My other consolation is that Harper so enjoys our walks. The way she smiles and carries on whenever she comes across a neighbor, which is about every five steps, you’d think she was riding on a Mardi Gras float instead of in a stroller from Target.
I know I’m always like, “It’s just as hot here as anywhere because we don’t have cars to hide in,” but I just cringed a little when I imagined you working out in that humidity. There is no possible way to make a gym cool enough to suit me, so I die a little for you.
Probably gonna need photos/video of Harper being happy on a walk. Just sayin’.
I’m guessing the ghost of Cassie was standing over you on the stairmaster, imploring you to get moving.
Maybe she should start selling cardboard standees of herself looking all badass, for people to prop up beside their exercise equipment.
I’ve seen Cassie’s RPM video. Her “imploring” is “good job, guys!” and “keep it up!” I’m not afraid.
Are you me?
YES. I’ll admit that your running has been inspiring me, though.
Idk how I found ur site, but I love it. Ur dry sense of humor and blatent disregard for all things “blog-y” is refreshing! keep that shit up! Also f the scale! its all about how you feel, cause when you feel amazing the weight comes off like nothing…oh and always eat ice cream and cookies! no matter what!
It’s always such a balance for me between feeling good/being happy with myself and telling myself I need to lose weight or look better or whatever. When I feel good about myself, I tend to not care about losing weight; I need to tell myself that being healthy is important no matter how I think I look.
I was really worried that this was going to be a post about how you were getting your life together and becoming an exercise fanatic and stuff. I’m really glad it’s not. I mean, not that I want you to have a miserable life or something, but I like that your blog is not an exercise blog. You know.
Similar to Noel, up until the last paragraph I was worried that you were starting to turn into an adult. I’m all for you trying to do the right thing, but it would make me sad if you stopped eating doughnuts for dinner and paying $700 for a seven course meal of moss and twigs. Often times, when makIng an indulgent choice, I rest myself in the probable fact that Katie Ett would think that this is cool. And I think that one of the reasons you are one of the few people that I still communicate with from my childhood is that we were always the last ones limping in from the mile runs in gym class. I hated gym, but you made it better, scoffing at the athletically gifted. Keep up the good work though!
My fondest memories of you are from gym class, too! It’s funny–one of my co-workers has a daughter who’s truly an amazing artist for her age, but he was telling me that she ran the mile in her gym class the other day so slowly that he asked her if she literally crawled for part of it. I didn’t want to ask how slow her time was for fear that mine was (and still is on the treadmill) much slower. But I’m an artist, dammit! Sort of.
Katie Ett: enabling bad behavior since 1981.
Gym was the dumbest. I have a hard time keeping my mouth shut every time I hear groups of adults lamenting that there’s not enough emphasis on physical education in schools these days.
I can’t do that, because then people would look to me to be an example. And as soon as people say they’re gym fanatics or healthy eaters, all I start to see is the one part of their body that still has flab or the one treat they indulge in now and then. But I might be a bad person.
I knew people were judging!
I knew people were judging!
This is why I have never (and will never) work-out in public.
‘Oh, look at that emaciated guy… isn’t that cute?! He really thinks he’s really doing something!’
Unless I wake up one morning… magically transformed into a dude that can bench-press a Buick. Then someone’s gonna’ have to pay me to leave the gym.
:)