On March 12, 2003, in a flash of clarity and determination, I’d written the following:
The “It’s Never Too Late for New Year’s Resolutions” Resolutions
Your life is in a downward spiral. It’s been just over 2 weeks. 5 pounds. This week you think, “I wish I would’ve stopped it last week.” It’s too late for that. Next week, do you want to again think, “I wish I had stopped it last week”? Now is the time. Stop NOW. Before you lose all progress you’d gained.
1) REPLACE the guy drama in your life with the gym. In a month, you can have more drama if you wish to let them in. Now, leave it, you’re too good to be a part of someone’s harem.
2) YOU come first. Run to relieve stress. Work out to get back at them.
3) IF you feel generous, work them into your schedule. They do not REPLACE your schedule.
4) DO NOT give what they don’t return. Learn vicariously through observation.
I’d printed this out on bright pink paper and put copies everywhere; in my car, magnetically held to my refrigerator, in my desk blotter at work. (Did you ever get the MMS photo of my desk blotter I sent to your over-featurized iPhone, Mike?)
I’m in the progress of reclaiming the spirit of those resolutions. I actually reached my goal set some weeks ago, before this crazy trial took away my lunches and evenings, and my regular dates with Mr. Gym. Reaching the goal shocked me, because I dropped below 22% body fat last week without having hit the gym for 2 weeks, AND all other factors stayed constant: bone weight, muscle weight, hydration were the same as before, the only things that’d changed were scale weight and fat percentage. Skipping so many meals, I was surprised my body didn’t kick into starvation mode and start storing fat while burning muscle. I attribute my muscle retention to the “lite” protein shakes I’d have each morning. Guess the stuff really does work.
This is the perfect time to really, REALLY hit the gym. Anything I do now should show up very nicely. Last night, for the first time in weeks, I reclaimed my gym time. It wasn’t easy — my body struggled a bit, didn’t sweat for awhile, so I know the metabolism isn’t the most lethal it’s ever been. I also normally hate the gym after work because it’s overcrowded, and it was, so I didn’t get to do everything I wanted. The only advantage to its overcrowdedness last night was that I was on the assisted pull-up machine supersetting pull-ups and tricep dips, and saw out of the corner of my eye in front of me a guy in really great shape on the standing leg press machine; I didn’t look at him directly, but soon as I was resting between sets, he walked up to me from the side and waved. It turned out to be a district attorney that I’ve worked with recently. Great guy, the only DA to come to trial having done my verdict forms for me (I was floored), and I was happy to see him. We chatted a bit before both going on with our workouts. For me, it was:
Assisted pull-ups (works back broadly, some biceps) supersetted with assisted tricep dips (works triceps and chest);
Single-legged squats (legs overall plus glutes) supersetted with supine bench press (center chest & triceps) supersetted with bent-over barbell rows (mid-back, biceps);
Prone hamstring curls (hamstrings, some calves).
An hour spent doing the above, 3 sets each, 15 reps per set or until failure.
And then I did 60 minutes of cardio on the elliptical trainer.
Keeping an eye on the time, I decided I’d shower and wash my hair at the gym and that way my hair would dry before I got home, and I could just relax at home. I normally don’t like doing that at the gym, though, because it’s just gross. This time, it wasn’t just a bit gross, but also odd. While I was toweling off my hair in the shower stall, I heard a woman in the shower area moan. Not a pained moan, more like a relaxed, happy moan. And then she sighed happily. And then moaned again. And sighed happily. “Great,” I thought, “I’d better not hear any pleasure more intense than that.” I walked out of the shower stall and passed a very heavy-set older woman sitting in the handicapped shower stall bench, curtain open, in a swimsuit. Soon, I was at the locker and was drying off some more and changing, when this woman came and sat at the bench next to where I was standing, carrying on a conversation with another woman. I recognized the voice as the moaner.
The other woman soon finished dressing and left, and I was left with the moaner on the bench, her swimsuit peeled down so that the top hung folded down over her abdominal fat rolls. I don’t know what she was doing as I was changing, because I did so with my back to her. But as soon as I reached up to take down my heels, she said to me, “Oh, you must’ve come from work.” I turned and smiled, and said yes, I did come straight from work. There was some small talk about that, how it’s a great idea to not go home first and get lazy, etc. And then the conversation made its natural end. I swung my workout bag’s strap over my shoulder. Now in a shirt but still in her swimsuit bottom, she said to me, “All I have left to do is put on my underwear.”
Eh? I didn’t know what I was expected to respond to that, so I didn’t.
“I think I’ll just not wear underwear under this,” she said to me.
“I think more people do that than you’d know,” I said to her friendly-like, thinking of myself.
“I’m just going home after this. Sometimes when I’m at home, I vacuum in just my shirt without a bra on.” She giggled hedonistically.
I shrugged at her, smiled, and said, “Hey, in the privacy of your own home, do whatever you want. If you want to vacuum naked, go ahead, it’s nobody’s business.” Thinking of myself.
Her eyes widened a bit. “Oh, no, I couldn’t do THAT.” She paused. “Well, maybe I could, with the drapes drawn,” she decided thoughtfully.
“Sure!” I said with open acceptance to her up-and-coming nudist lifestyle. “Have a nice evening!”
As I left, she said after me, “One thing you CAN’T do naked, though, is fry stuff.”
I laughed and agreed with her.
