To Those Girls at the Gym (You Know Who You Are)
When I go to the gym, I throw on whatever is clean and comfortable and go. If I'm having a serious blemish problem, I'll cover it up, but I don't put on make-up to go to the gym (unless you count chapstick) and I don't go looking as if I'm going out to a club. When I'm there, my headphones are in my ears and I'm not talking to a soul. Maybe I'll say a few words to a trainer if they approach me first. Otherwise, leave me alone.
I have a set amount of time and I'm there to work out. I'm not there to socialize or make fun of people, not even the little old guys who wear the short tight gym shorts pulled up past their belly buttons. The way I see it, they're there to work out too and who am I to make fun of them for their workout attire? It's not a fashion show people. It's the gym.
Last night, I was the victim of teenage abuse. Several teenage girls wearing super short shorts and super tight shirts were standing around, I guess working their necks, seeing as how they were tossing their hair around endlessly. I never even would have noticed them if it wasn't for the fact that an entire posse of them were taking up residence on both of the slant boards and intensely watching me workout.
Since the free-weight area was pretty jammed up, I used a step aerobic step as my bench and sat down to do some shoulder exercises. I was totally into what I was doing, until I was rudely taken out of my element by staring, laughing and nasty catty looks from this group of wanna-be Hanna Montana's Paris Hilton's. I ignored them for as long as I possibly could, completely not understanding why I was being targeted by this little clan of hussies.
Then it occurred to me. I was wearing long pants and a long sleeve shirt, not a near bikini like they were. The one girl was particularly catty and snotty and started glaring at me in the mirror. She wanted me to look at her. At one point, I couldn't take it anymore and met her glare in the mirror with an obvious mocking of the way she was looking at me. I mouthed the word "what?" at her giving her all of her attitude back and then some. My look said, "You got a problem biotch? You want some of this Adidas clad lady?" I wanted to say, "You know, if you spent half the time you're spending glaring at me, actually working out, maybe your butt wouldn't be so flabby." I bit my tongue. She seemed surprised that I glared back at her and turned away uncomfortably. She tried to rally her group but I was imagining putting her into a wrist lock that would drop her to the floor and I think she felt it. She tossed her hair in another direction and then did a sit-up. Yes, one. When I was teaching high school, someone once bought me a pottery jar that says, "Ashes of obnoxious teenagers" and I now know it was made because of girls like her.
I also learned that it takes only one nasty glare from some stupid girl to take you right back to the feelings of Junior High all over again. Fun stuff. The difference is that in Junior High I would have left the area immediately, too afraid to meet their glares or let them know they were out of line.
When I was finished in that area, I went to find my friend and told her about the snotty girls and how I much prefer going to the gym in the morning when the seniors contingent is there. They're much nicer. Also, there are a ton of big built guys, some of them quite young, but you never get anything but a nice "hello" and smile from them. In fact, I have never seen a single guy in the gym ever making fun of anyone. They're like me; they're there to workout. Plain and simple. What the hell was that girls problem?
My friend laughed it off and said she doesn't let things like that bother her. You should know that nothing bothers this particular friend. She said, "she was probably jealous of your body." Right. I try not to let stuff bother me, man, how I wish it didn't, but I'm sensitive like that. Also, most teenagers I know tend to show a little respect. Out of all my students this semester, I only had one who ever gave me attitude. She dropped the class the first week when she realized it wasn't going to fly with me.
As much as I tried not to let this chick bother me last night, she did. I think she bothered me so much because she is exactly the kind of girl I want to shield my girls from. She's that catty, attitude laden you-know-what who puts out for guys, and gives girls a bad reputation. I don't want my girls to become her and I don't want anyone like her messing with them.
While driving home I had this fantasy about walking into the new semester next month and seeing her in my class. "Oh, you go to the gym don't you? Uh-huh, I know who you are." Far-fetched, I know, but it made me feel a little better.
I was talking to Mr. BBM about it last night and when I told him about my behavior back, I said, "How very martial arts of me." I know I should have just completely ignored her but unlike Brian Preston's one teacher in Me, Chi and Bruce Lee I think that sometimes people do need to make some waves. I think that girl deserved to know she was messing with the wrong person and that she shouldn't be messing with anyone just because they don't look like her, dress like her or act like her. Deep inside, I think she thought I was older and therefore an easy target. I don't want to be an easy target and I let her know that I'm not. Sometimes, people need to know their place and be called on it when they're doing something rude. Otherwise, how will she learn? I like to think that last night will stand out in her head, and that she'll think twice about doing the same thing to someone else.
She should also know that karma is a real bitch, and what goes around truly does come back around; and with the way she was acting it will come back around with the force of a slingshot. Fast forward 20 years to when some teenage girl decide to make fun of her for waltzing around the gym wearing hot pants with a non-hot butt. That's how I'm going to imagine things if I see her again. Hopefully I won't.
Karma, karma, karma, my new mantra for dealing with nasty teenagers. I should probably find that piece of pottery and carry it around as my water bottle at the gym too.
Boost an Ego
On Sunday, my trainer put me on one of those slant boards with a medicine ball and tortured me. I did three sets of three different ab exercises and they were all intense. I had watched people on those slant boards many times and never tried, figuring it was pointless.
When I returned to karate for the whole two weeks I was able back in October, we did sit-ups as part of the warm-ups. I could barely do ten whereas before, 50 was no problem. It was a stark reminder of how out of it I was. I had done nothing but work on my legs after the surgery and my abs had totally suffered because of it.
Since I joined the gym in October though, I've made abs part of my work-out every single time. I started with crunches on the mat, did some pilates plank things and then found an ab machine I loved. My trainer would often walk by me while I was on it and he would just smile a bit. I was using almost half the stack last week so he couldn't have been smiling because I was a weakling. I had no idea why until Sunday.
Hanging upside down, I was told to "explode" up with the medicine ball over my head, drop half way back down and then come back up again. It was torture. Another thing he had me do was even worse. Holding the ball with both hands at my waist, I had to lean back half way and twist from side to side until he told me to stop. At one point, my brain was saying "keep going" but my abs had enough and I went flying upside down once again. My trainer pushed me back up and said we were going to start from scratch. This time I did it.
When I was finished, he asked me how I thought that workout compared to sitting on the ab machine. "There is no comparison," I told him. He laughed. Now I know what that smile was for.
They say you can't notice a difference in one day, but I swear I did. Mr. BBM sees it too. Today I went to the gym and made my way to the slant board. I worked it hard just like on Sunday. I was a sweaty mess when I was done. Afterwards, I went nearby to the treadmills and walked a bit. I had noticed this one big guy watching me on the slant board and I noticed him walk over to it when I was done. He grabbed a medicine ball, reclined like I did and tried to sit up. Nothing.
He tried again. Nothing. He just couldn't do it.
He dropped the ball and tried to do it without. He did exactly three, not all the way up, and with a sideways lean. He wasn't in bad shape. I don't like to see anyone not succeed, but I have to tell you, it made me feel like I was soaring. It was a fantastic way to end my workout. Progress is a wonderful thing.
***Check out The BBM Review for the latest MA book review of "Me, Chi and Bruce Lee" by Brian Preston. Good stuff!
Surgery is Scheduled
The surgery to remove the protruding part of the sheath surrounding the screw in my tibia is officially scheduled for January 7th. At least I can get through the holidays without being in recent surgical pain. My PT told me that my biggest issue will be swelling but that it should disappear fairly quickly. He said it won't be nearly as bad as ACL surgery, but I'm still preparing myself for the worst. I don't want to be blindsided by pain.
I am hoping that this is the final thing I need to get me back in the dojo and on the road to feeling normal and thinking less about my knee all the time. 23 days until the knife. Let's bring it on and get it over with once and for all.
***There's a new review on The BBM Review of a martial arts book called "Me, Chi and Bruce Lee" that you should definitely check out. Don't miss it!
The Weekend in Review
Mr. BBM's office party was quite fun on Friday night. I was able to meet many of his co-workers and by the time the evening rolled around, I was actually able to lift my arms a bit. Instead of dancing, I made up new lyrics to some songs. Take "The Twist" for example. . . "Come on baby, let's tear an ACL. . . Come on BAH BEE, let's tear an ACL."
I know, ACL humor is hysterical. You're welcome.
Saturday, I spent the entire day cooking and preparing for the annual Pitt party. I adopted the theme of July at Christmas (a play on Christmas in July) and prepared BBQ Jerk chicken, hot dogs for the kids, and had friends bring pasta salad and crab dip. We also did a late night tortilla chip and dip and Buffalo bites snack while we were playing "Apples to Apples," a hysterical game that always gets big laughs. It's also super fun playing with people who've had a few drinks.
Today, I spent an hour and a half preparing breakfast for the friends who stayed over because Mr. BBM was a bit "incapacitated." I'm not the breakfast chef, but it all turned out o.k. Later, I met my trainer at the gym where he worked me to the point of complete exhaustion. I still managed to go kick around the pool for a couple laps afterward with a good friend though.
Basically I can barely lift my fingers after the workout I had, and am now going to prop my book up on my lap and try to figure out a way to turn the pages without lifting my arms. Also, drinking a ton of water (thanks for that advice, my dedicated reader-we'll see how it turns out tomorrow).
Tricep Trauma
Future dialogue at Mr. BBM's office party tonight.
". . . I'd like you to meet my wife. . . "
(BBM tries in vain to lift arm to shake hands.)
". . . she's a descendant of the T-Rex, obviously."
Obviously.
Off to the gym to try to do some damage to the legs today. Think Mr. BBM will carry me around tonight?
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