One thing that used to bother me in my 20s when I went to the gym was the number of naked ladies walking around the locker room or sitting in the sauna. I would shower and get dressed so quickly that I am sure that people thought that I showered with my clothes on. These naked women just would not quit! I had a French friend that I used to swim with. She would stand and tell me about her day after a swim as I sat, eye-level to her bush after, and did not care! And she wasn't the only one! It was a breast-booty-vag parade in that locker room! And me, being very uncomfortable with my body, hated it! I mean, even as a kid, I didn't change into my leotard with the other girls for ballet practice when I took dance at the Y. I would sneak out and change in the bathroom.
On Sunday, after showering and washing my hair, I grabbed my towel and simply walked out of the shower, my whole back side exposed. I didn't realize at first what I had done but once I did, I didn't care. I walked between two women being trained to work at the gym, water dripping from my bum. And once I got out into the locker room, I said hi to a woman who pretended not to see me, watching a video on her phone. I laughed out loud. Hey 21-year-old girl, take a gander at these cheeks! These are the cheeks of a 35-year-old woman who is here to improve her life and health and doesn't give a frick what you think!
Isn't it funny how things change with age? I am bigger now than I was at 25, I just don't care. As my ballet teacher used to tell me, pissed off as she dragged me out of the bathroom for practice, what does it matter if you are naked? We are all girls that have the same thing.
Showing posts with label gym. Show all posts
Showing posts with label gym. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 7, 2020
Gym Part 1: Annoying
Yes, like all the rest of the losers that have an issue committing to goals in a real way, I started going to the gym again this year for 2020. If you would remember, I used to go religiously to do water aerobics, but when I went broke, my membership was the first thing to go. But I have now started going again. Don't worry, I'm still broke. My aunt got me a membership for Christmas and I am so stoked. As you should well know by now, I LOVE the water.
However, once I walked into the familiar doors of the gym, I immediately remembered the little things about the gym that irked me. Upon walking to the check-in counter, I turn to my left and see a girl drinking out of this outrageously large water bottle. And I'm thinking, how much water do you need to do an hours worth of donkey kicks while staring at yourself intensely in the mirror? On top of that, she had on one of those workout outfits intended to make you sweat more. She also had on insanely professional workout sneakers. I just wanted to scream, "This is your local gym, not the olympics, girlfriend!"
So, as I am checking in to the gym, the guy checking me in sees a friend. The convo went like this:
However, once I walked into the familiar doors of the gym, I immediately remembered the little things about the gym that irked me. Upon walking to the check-in counter, I turn to my left and see a girl drinking out of this outrageously large water bottle. And I'm thinking, how much water do you need to do an hours worth of donkey kicks while staring at yourself intensely in the mirror? On top of that, she had on one of those workout outfits intended to make you sweat more. She also had on insanely professional workout sneakers. I just wanted to scream, "This is your local gym, not the olympics, girlfriend!"
So, as I am checking in to the gym, the guy checking me in sees a friend. The convo went like this:
Check-in guy: "What's up bro?"
Friend: "Nothing. Can't believe it is Sunday."
Check-in guy: "I know right. I am already planning my proteins for the week in my head."
Proteins for the week?? Can you be any more obnoxious than that?
The icing on the cake were the people stretching in the designated little stretch area. They were twisting and turning while trying to maintain some semblance of sexiness. One sister was just sitting on the mat in a full split, staring into space. I wanted to tap her on her boney shoulder and tell her, "Hey, if you can hit a split...THERE IS NO REASON FOR YOUR TO EVEN BE HERE!"
A few things have changed since the last time I was there, the primary thing being that it is no longer tabu to take photos of yourself working out. I saw more cell phones on the workout floor than sweat rags.
But the good thing is is that the pool, my old friend, has not changed. I did tricks in that pool like a professional cheerleader and had so much fun. This time, I will try my hardest to stick it out.
Thursday, November 7, 2013
The Bounce Back
Trying to rededicate yourself to working out after you have fallen off the wagon and gotten ran over by it is VERY hard. People always told me it was imperative to stick with it, now I see why. Starting over again sucks.
As you know, my last day at the gym was a COMPLETE nightmare. I will not lie. In typical Holly fashion I was prepared to give up and polish off the rest of my Halloween candy. But I didn't. I went to the gym with my aunt yesterday and took the AquaFit class, which is pretty much water aerobics. And no, you don't burn a lot of calories in the class. But it was more important for me to just be in the gym because if I didn't go again, I knew I wouldn't go again.
It was fun but I have obviously gained weight. My swimsuit cut across my ass like a G-string. I was fully aware of this before my aunt had to announce, "I think you have gained weight. It looked like you were wearing a thong."
But you know your girl Holls. Not even having my ass exposed will keep me out of the water.
As you know, my last day at the gym was a COMPLETE nightmare. I will not lie. In typical Holly fashion I was prepared to give up and polish off the rest of my Halloween candy. But I didn't. I went to the gym with my aunt yesterday and took the AquaFit class, which is pretty much water aerobics. And no, you don't burn a lot of calories in the class. But it was more important for me to just be in the gym because if I didn't go again, I knew I wouldn't go again.
It was fun but I have obviously gained weight. My swimsuit cut across my ass like a G-string. I was fully aware of this before my aunt had to announce, "I think you have gained weight. It looked like you were wearing a thong."
But you know your girl Holls. Not even having my ass exposed will keep me out of the water.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
The 25 Year Itch
I made this pretty dynamic friend at the gym. It's funny, because I don't remember her name. But she is pretty amazing. She has twice the endurance of everyone in our yoga class, even though she has a LITERAL peg leg!
Anyway, she asked me how old I am, and I told her I am 25 and she goes, "These years are the time of your life."
Question: If these years are the time of my life than why am I CONSISTENTLY worried, confused, generally not at ease, and overall overwhelmingly concerned about everything?! Everything.
No matter how hard I plan or how strategic I try to place my steps, I always feel like I am walking a tightrope- one false move, and I can end up plummeting head first into homelessness, bankruptcy, unemployment, etc. If these are the best of times friends, then what will the worst be like?
Anyway, she asked me how old I am, and I told her I am 25 and she goes, "These years are the time of your life."
Question: If these years are the time of my life than why am I CONSISTENTLY worried, confused, generally not at ease, and overall overwhelmingly concerned about everything?! Everything.
No matter how hard I plan or how strategic I try to place my steps, I always feel like I am walking a tightrope- one false move, and I can end up plummeting head first into homelessness, bankruptcy, unemployment, etc. If these are the best of times friends, then what will the worst be like?
Friday, July 30, 2010
Too Old For This
Today my Aunt told me I need to get back in the gym because my hips almost knocked over an empty Quicktrip cup in her car. Let me tell you a little story: I am so tired of people telling me what I need to do. I am not a baby. I am not a child. Dare I say, I don't need to do anything other than what my grown self wants to do. Capiche? Man, if only I was as thin as my patience.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Introducing Mama Jamaica
There is this woman that attends my Aqua Fit class that I have nickname Mama Jamaica. I don't dislike her, but I would be lying if I said that she didn't annoy that absolute hell out of me.
She is a petite woman with a fat woman's breasts. She has a short little gray afro, and she wears one pieces that show a little bit too much bikini line for a woman of her years.
She always gets to class late which, again, annoys me. I know that it is not school, but she comes late and makes it a point to yell hello to us over the teacher's instructions. She also wears swim shoes. She has a pair for every one piece. Come on! We are doing arm flaps in three feet of water! Must you be so equipped?
Recently, I suppose she has appointed herself gym attendance keeper. She tells me as she jogs past me in the pool, "Haven't seen you in a while." OK. I heard her say it to a couple of other ladies in the locker room. I guess after three absences, we get detention.
I get the feeling that she may have been a teacher, just by the way she has a need to instruct the class, even though we have a CERTIFIED instructor there.
And her accent is so deep, even though I think she has been here for like ever, that I half expect her to break into "Flex" during a conversation!
What can you say? God bless the old folks.
She is a petite woman with a fat woman's breasts. She has a short little gray afro, and she wears one pieces that show a little bit too much bikini line for a woman of her years.
She always gets to class late which, again, annoys me. I know that it is not school, but she comes late and makes it a point to yell hello to us over the teacher's instructions. She also wears swim shoes. She has a pair for every one piece. Come on! We are doing arm flaps in three feet of water! Must you be so equipped?
Recently, I suppose she has appointed herself gym attendance keeper. She tells me as she jogs past me in the pool, "Haven't seen you in a while." OK. I heard her say it to a couple of other ladies in the locker room. I guess after three absences, we get detention.
I get the feeling that she may have been a teacher, just by the way she has a need to instruct the class, even though we have a CERTIFIED instructor there.
And her accent is so deep, even though I think she has been here for like ever, that I half expect her to break into "Flex" during a conversation!
What can you say? God bless the old folks.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
The Look
I went to the gym yesterday to, you know, hang out. At the gym, they have these individual rooms where classes take place. Well, in one of the vacant rooms, this chick was practicing for her fitness competition...in those clear stiletto stripper shoes, some boy shorts, and a "bra." I was hatin' on her at like a level 10. While pretending to work on one of the machines, I watched the men at the gym crowd around the window to watch her practice her routine, which included standing like a beauty queen, flexing her amazing legs, while smiling like an idiot.
So what's the problem? I want men to look at me like that, like they want to have sex with me and touch on me and stuff. And not just any men, but buff, sexy men like the ones at the gym.
But can I achieve this without being super in shape? Can I do it without somehow objectifying myself like this girl?
I want to say yes, but I don't think so. Because I am the opposite of this lady and attract the opposite type of man. And I am a bit tired of having to entertain men I am not at all attracted to or interested in because they are the type of man typically attracted to girls like me!
Unfortunately, I am not willing to change myself for such an obnoxious reason, thus depleting my self-respect and dignity, so as the old saying goes, "You always want you can't have."
So what's the problem? I want men to look at me like that, like they want to have sex with me and touch on me and stuff. And not just any men, but buff, sexy men like the ones at the gym.
But can I achieve this without being super in shape? Can I do it without somehow objectifying myself like this girl?
I want to say yes, but I don't think so. Because I am the opposite of this lady and attract the opposite type of man. And I am a bit tired of having to entertain men I am not at all attracted to or interested in because they are the type of man typically attracted to girls like me!
Unfortunately, I am not willing to change myself for such an obnoxious reason, thus depleting my self-respect and dignity, so as the old saying goes, "You always want you can't have."
Curious and the City
So Curious is supposed to be popping up for Memorial Day weekend to take me to see Sex and The City 2. I want to be excited, but I am sure that there is like an 80% chance that it won't happen. Why? Because boys lie and if they don't mean to lie, they end up becoming habitual broken promise makers. I don't know what annoys me most, the fact that he may not come so I will miss out on some much needed NC-17 action, or missing out on seeing the most anticipated movie of the summer for free?! I don't know if I can take another weekend of writing my articles and going to the gym, pretending to workout. What a bust!
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Bye-Bye Bra
After getting out of the pool at the gym I tried something that I have not done since I was in the second grade: I didn't put on a bra.
I know, I know. For a woman of my age and size this is a definite no-no. I would not suggest if you are anything above a B cup that you try this at home. I didn't plan on leaving the gym without my bra, but I have to say, I just DID NOT feel like putting it on. I was still damp, I was ready to go home, and on mistake, I had walked out of the shower without putting it on, and I didn't want to expose innocent bystanders to my boobs in the locker area.
I have to say, I was truly surprised with the end result. In my black summer dress, my boobs almost looked perky. Without hard nipples, you could not even tell that they were pointing south!
Walking into the grocery store after the gym, I felt liberated. That bra burning nonsense of the 60s actually made sense to me as I tossed a package of chicken legs in my cart. I liked the way it felt to have my boobs jiggling freely in public. I actually felt more confident than I do in the super support bras that a woman of my...stature is forced to wear.
So that day I decided: no more bras! I kicked myself for having bought a $40 bra the day before from Lane Bryant. I packed my gym bag, minus the bra, and proudly pranced to the pool. Afterward, I put on my gray summer dress, looked in the mirror, and had to stop myself from screaming. In gray, my boobs were a totally different story. I'd say an honest one. The girls dangled lifelessly from my chest like two half-empty two liters.
In shame, I exited the gym and headed to the store, feeling like EVERYONE was staring at me.
Needless to say, my bra is securely packed in my gym bag. I've learned my lesson.
I know, I know. For a woman of my age and size this is a definite no-no. I would not suggest if you are anything above a B cup that you try this at home. I didn't plan on leaving the gym without my bra, but I have to say, I just DID NOT feel like putting it on. I was still damp, I was ready to go home, and on mistake, I had walked out of the shower without putting it on, and I didn't want to expose innocent bystanders to my boobs in the locker area.
I have to say, I was truly surprised with the end result. In my black summer dress, my boobs almost looked perky. Without hard nipples, you could not even tell that they were pointing south!
Walking into the grocery store after the gym, I felt liberated. That bra burning nonsense of the 60s actually made sense to me as I tossed a package of chicken legs in my cart. I liked the way it felt to have my boobs jiggling freely in public. I actually felt more confident than I do in the super support bras that a woman of my...stature is forced to wear.
So that day I decided: no more bras! I kicked myself for having bought a $40 bra the day before from Lane Bryant. I packed my gym bag, minus the bra, and proudly pranced to the pool. Afterward, I put on my gray summer dress, looked in the mirror, and had to stop myself from screaming. In gray, my boobs were a totally different story. I'd say an honest one. The girls dangled lifelessly from my chest like two half-empty two liters.
In shame, I exited the gym and headed to the store, feeling like EVERYONE was staring at me.
Needless to say, my bra is securely packed in my gym bag. I've learned my lesson.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
How Annoying...
Yesterday I was at my neighborhood Wal-Mart, trying to balance pushing my cart through the pastry section while munching on a McDouble when a random woman shouted from over by the fruits, "Hey, where did I just see you at?!"
Everyone looked in her direction, but she pointed at me. Of course, this did not mean that Wal-Mart lost interest in the conversation.
"Umm..." I was lost. I had never seen this woman, dressed in a hot pink jumpsuit and Coach visor, in my life! Apparently, she knew me.
"Didn't you just leave the gym and now you are eating that? You are defeating the purpose!" she yelled to me, in front of a bunch of fellow shoppers. I shoved the burger in my mouth so I could adequately push the cart and hauled ass!
Earlier that day, at the gym, I decided to walk back and forth in the pool when I was approached by an old lady. She had on a floaty, a foam noodle, goggles, a swim cap, and those fish fin hand things, all to walk back and forth in 3 feet of water. She walks over to me, interrupting my groove, to tell me about a health fair she is putting on at the mall. "You should come!" she insists. "They are going to have free Diabetes screenings!"
Just when I thought there was no more room for any more annoying folks in the water, here came a woman I have affectionately named "Weavey." She claims to be a hairstylist, but whenever I see her, she has on a horrible hairpiece that is clearly ripping the hair from her temples. She also looks like the wife from The PJs. Anywho, she gets in the pool and the first thing out of her mouth is, "You have been going here so long! I would have expected you to be smaller by now." I put on my fake smile, the one where my teeth don't touch, as she goes on and on about how I would like the Adkins's Diet. She was on it years ago, lost 50 lbs, gained it back, now she is on it again. She had just started last week and had lost 3 whole pounds already!
Idiots, plain and simple.
Everyone looked in her direction, but she pointed at me. Of course, this did not mean that Wal-Mart lost interest in the conversation.
"Umm..." I was lost. I had never seen this woman, dressed in a hot pink jumpsuit and Coach visor, in my life! Apparently, she knew me.
"Didn't you just leave the gym and now you are eating that? You are defeating the purpose!" she yelled to me, in front of a bunch of fellow shoppers. I shoved the burger in my mouth so I could adequately push the cart and hauled ass!
Earlier that day, at the gym, I decided to walk back and forth in the pool when I was approached by an old lady. She had on a floaty, a foam noodle, goggles, a swim cap, and those fish fin hand things, all to walk back and forth in 3 feet of water. She walks over to me, interrupting my groove, to tell me about a health fair she is putting on at the mall. "You should come!" she insists. "They are going to have free Diabetes screenings!"
Just when I thought there was no more room for any more annoying folks in the water, here came a woman I have affectionately named "Weavey." She claims to be a hairstylist, but whenever I see her, she has on a horrible hairpiece that is clearly ripping the hair from her temples. She also looks like the wife from The PJs. Anywho, she gets in the pool and the first thing out of her mouth is, "You have been going here so long! I would have expected you to be smaller by now." I put on my fake smile, the one where my teeth don't touch, as she goes on and on about how I would like the Adkins's Diet. She was on it years ago, lost 50 lbs, gained it back, now she is on it again. She had just started last week and had lost 3 whole pounds already!
Idiots, plain and simple.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Topless Ticky
There is this really chic Asian lady that goes to my gym. I keep forgetting her name, so I have nicknamed her "Ticky." She has to be knocking on forty, but she bops around the gym in those tight Victoria Secret sweats with those spaghetti strap tops. Every time I turn around she is over in the weight section flirting with those huge muscle guys, the ones that don't even look real. She's a flirt, especially with the Black guys, slapping them on the arm.
"You so funny Gerry!" she'll cry.
She is typically the type of woman that would annoy me, but somehow she has become my pal. The only thing is that Ticky LOVES being nakie. When she changes her clothes in the gym she makes a point to walk around topless. When she gets out of the shower, she'll put the towel around her waist and walk around topless, and today, when I went into the sauna, she was topless. I get the feeling that she likes her breasts, probably because they are showroom new. No, I do not have proof that her breasts are fake, and I don't want to stereotype, but I have never seen an Asian woman with double D breasts. And I have really never seen a woman, regardless of race, who had doubles that stood at attention.
Two things bug me about my buddy Ticky. I find her toplessness to be a we bit odd, and second, she does this without thinking about whether or not anyone is uncomfortable. As you all know, I hate nudity, so maybe that is why I am so weirded out, but for once, I would like to go to the gym to get my low-intensity workout on without feeling like I am in the opening scene of Carrie. I know that we are all girls in the locker room and have the same thing, but can't our "same things" be hidden underneath a turtleneck? I have taken it upon myself to tell Ticky, without saying anything, that her little panty parades are inappropriate but I don't know. Selling the idea of being clothed to a woman as self-confident as Ticky could by tricky.
"You so funny Gerry!" she'll cry.
She is typically the type of woman that would annoy me, but somehow she has become my pal. The only thing is that Ticky LOVES being nakie. When she changes her clothes in the gym she makes a point to walk around topless. When she gets out of the shower, she'll put the towel around her waist and walk around topless, and today, when I went into the sauna, she was topless. I get the feeling that she likes her breasts, probably because they are showroom new. No, I do not have proof that her breasts are fake, and I don't want to stereotype, but I have never seen an Asian woman with double D breasts. And I have really never seen a woman, regardless of race, who had doubles that stood at attention.
Two things bug me about my buddy Ticky. I find her toplessness to be a we bit odd, and second, she does this without thinking about whether or not anyone is uncomfortable. As you all know, I hate nudity, so maybe that is why I am so weirded out, but for once, I would like to go to the gym to get my low-intensity workout on without feeling like I am in the opening scene of Carrie. I know that we are all girls in the locker room and have the same thing, but can't our "same things" be hidden underneath a turtleneck? I have taken it upon myself to tell Ticky, without saying anything, that her little panty parades are inappropriate but I don't know. Selling the idea of being clothed to a woman as self-confident as Ticky could by tricky.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Falling Off the Wagon
I am embarrassed to say this, but again I have strayed off my exercise regimen.
If I hated going to the gym before, I really hate it now. I go to the gym and every person who started off when I did is now ready for their after picture I suck on hot wing bones in the locker room stall.
Man, I am so disappointed in myself. I was so excited when I first started out, you know? Going everyday and cutting back on my snacks. Now I am lucky to go twice a week, and the other day I every so fatty like went through two containers of Keeblers like water. Ug, I was so disgusted in myself. I know that I have gained. I am not sure, because I do not weigh myself, but last year, at the BET Awards, the seats were just a bit uncomfortable. This year, the arm rests were eating at my sides so bad that I was almost in tears by the second performance!
This asshole I went to middle school with, Jamal Harris, he said during summer school one year, "It's not hard to loose weight. Just stop eating." What a prick! If it was only that easy. Sadly, I had guessed it was that easy myself.
Starting out, I thought I was different than the other large people working out around me. I figured it was all mental and I could kick the fat like a bad cold. Please. I have no self control! I give into all my cravings. I want to eat all the time, even when I am not hungry. This whole weight loss journey is starting to look hopeless. Man, this is depressing. I wish I had some ice cream.
If I hated going to the gym before, I really hate it now. I go to the gym and every person who started off when I did is now ready for their after picture I suck on hot wing bones in the locker room stall.
Man, I am so disappointed in myself. I was so excited when I first started out, you know? Going everyday and cutting back on my snacks. Now I am lucky to go twice a week, and the other day I every so fatty like went through two containers of Keeblers like water. Ug, I was so disgusted in myself. I know that I have gained. I am not sure, because I do not weigh myself, but last year, at the BET Awards, the seats were just a bit uncomfortable. This year, the arm rests were eating at my sides so bad that I was almost in tears by the second performance!
This asshole I went to middle school with, Jamal Harris, he said during summer school one year, "It's not hard to loose weight. Just stop eating." What a prick! If it was only that easy. Sadly, I had guessed it was that easy myself.
Starting out, I thought I was different than the other large people working out around me. I figured it was all mental and I could kick the fat like a bad cold. Please. I have no self control! I give into all my cravings. I want to eat all the time, even when I am not hungry. This whole weight loss journey is starting to look hopeless. Man, this is depressing. I wish I had some ice cream.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Diane and the Plan
I met this adorable woman named Diane at the gym. She is an older White woman in her early 50s that, much like me, lives in the pool and stays away from the actual workout machines. In a nutshell, she rubs me as one of those women that has never said an unkind word about anyone...that wasn't true at least; the kind of woman who recycles and donates old clothes and pays fundraising high schoolers to wash her car.
The other day we happened to be in the pool together for about two hours, and we got to talking about her life. She has been divorced almost as long as I have been alive from a man that was not quite as nice as she is. Everyone including his family was sad about seeing them get divorced, seeing that she's awesome and they are Catholic and he was an asshole. She said that when they divorced he told her she would never find anyone else, and as of now, she hasn't.
She was telling me that she has gone on E-Harmony and Catholic Singles and found that most of the men were either nuts or sex-crazed. She even met a guy at the gym who turned out to be a stalker, and another one that seemed cool, but dropped off the face of the planet. She found that the men she was attracted to most, the gentlemen, always ended up being gay.
"Maybe I am just too old-fashioned to date," she sighed as we walked back in forth in the pool with our foam weights. She told me that she had only been with one man sexually her whole life, her ex-husband, and that she found herself confused by the sex-crazed mentality of today's dating scene, even in her age group. She is just into the little things: dinner dates, water aerobics, and taking care of her pet dogs and birds.
Something about Diane reminded me of myself. What do you do when you are too conservative for today's relationships? How do you actively date while maintaining your dignity? You don't want to be alone, so do you do as the other daters do and ditch the dignity for companionship? I blog about this all the time at 24. It saddened me that this is a situation that middle-aged women are even facing. I guess a part of me was hoping it was an issue that would solve itself with age. APPARENTLY NOT!
But unlike myself, Diane has a plan. She said that she is simply going to continue playing with her dogs and water-walking; she is going to continue to work on getting healthy. Then hopefully someone worth a damn will fall into her lap when the time is right. Reflecting on the guys that have hurt me in the past and the losers that I rounded up online, I guess that is all you can do.
The other day we happened to be in the pool together for about two hours, and we got to talking about her life. She has been divorced almost as long as I have been alive from a man that was not quite as nice as she is. Everyone including his family was sad about seeing them get divorced, seeing that she's awesome and they are Catholic and he was an asshole. She said that when they divorced he told her she would never find anyone else, and as of now, she hasn't.
She was telling me that she has gone on E-Harmony and Catholic Singles and found that most of the men were either nuts or sex-crazed. She even met a guy at the gym who turned out to be a stalker, and another one that seemed cool, but dropped off the face of the planet. She found that the men she was attracted to most, the gentlemen, always ended up being gay.
"Maybe I am just too old-fashioned to date," she sighed as we walked back in forth in the pool with our foam weights. She told me that she had only been with one man sexually her whole life, her ex-husband, and that she found herself confused by the sex-crazed mentality of today's dating scene, even in her age group. She is just into the little things: dinner dates, water aerobics, and taking care of her pet dogs and birds.
Something about Diane reminded me of myself. What do you do when you are too conservative for today's relationships? How do you actively date while maintaining your dignity? You don't want to be alone, so do you do as the other daters do and ditch the dignity for companionship? I blog about this all the time at 24. It saddened me that this is a situation that middle-aged women are even facing. I guess a part of me was hoping it was an issue that would solve itself with age. APPARENTLY NOT!
But unlike myself, Diane has a plan. She said that she is simply going to continue playing with her dogs and water-walking; she is going to continue to work on getting healthy. Then hopefully someone worth a damn will fall into her lap when the time is right. Reflecting on the guys that have hurt me in the past and the losers that I rounded up online, I guess that is all you can do.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Introducing B Cubed
So "Jail House Rock," a.k.a. "Margarita Man" had to exit stage left when I found out that he was married with kids. He's still fine, but a girl has got to have principals. Now, on to the next crush. I have named him B Cubed, for, you guessed it, Best Buy Boy!
Although he goes to my gym, I saw him for the first time when I went to Best Buy to buy my new Maxwell album hot off the press. He's tall and dark with a friendly, yet expressionless face. He doesn't strike me as a smiler or a talker, but his hair has a lot of character. He is one of those cats that gets designs cut into his head like boys used to do when I was in kindergarten. When I saw him the first time I was like, "Hey, that guy is fine."
Then I saw him again after the Great August Cell Phone Crisis. My little crap-crap Go Phone completely went south on me, so I had to break down and buy a phone worth something, and there he was, standing around at work, and I was like, "Hey, it's that fine guy."
So Wednesday I was pleasantly surprised when he held the door open for me at the gym. It's a small world...or just a small town.
I was watching him work out that day. He has man pudge. I am a fan or man pudge. You know, when a guy is the guy version of thick? He isn't built, but he isn't fat. He's solid, but not really. For some reason, I feel like you will understand this confusing description.
Anywho, he works out in normal clothes, not those weird garbage bag suits or cutoffs like the other ultra-buff dudes, which, is a big plus. He looks like he may be my age or two years older, and he has these tattoos on his shoulders. They are huge! I can tell that from the outlines. They are the type you have to step up on a guy to read because he is too dark. Yes, the best type of tats. Sidebar: I did not know I was into tats, but I have to say, I'm embracing them.
My spider senses are telling me that this guy most likely would not be interested in me. But as I have shared, I need crushes to survive. Plus, I am working on coming out of my dating shell and approaching men I like, even if I feel the guy may say no. I need to build up my tolerance for rejection.
OK, I will keep you posted. Hopefully he won't be married.
Although he goes to my gym, I saw him for the first time when I went to Best Buy to buy my new Maxwell album hot off the press. He's tall and dark with a friendly, yet expressionless face. He doesn't strike me as a smiler or a talker, but his hair has a lot of character. He is one of those cats that gets designs cut into his head like boys used to do when I was in kindergarten. When I saw him the first time I was like, "Hey, that guy is fine."
Then I saw him again after the Great August Cell Phone Crisis. My little crap-crap Go Phone completely went south on me, so I had to break down and buy a phone worth something, and there he was, standing around at work, and I was like, "Hey, it's that fine guy."
So Wednesday I was pleasantly surprised when he held the door open for me at the gym. It's a small world...or just a small town.
I was watching him work out that day. He has man pudge. I am a fan or man pudge. You know, when a guy is the guy version of thick? He isn't built, but he isn't fat. He's solid, but not really. For some reason, I feel like you will understand this confusing description.
Anywho, he works out in normal clothes, not those weird garbage bag suits or cutoffs like the other ultra-buff dudes, which, is a big plus. He looks like he may be my age or two years older, and he has these tattoos on his shoulders. They are huge! I can tell that from the outlines. They are the type you have to step up on a guy to read because he is too dark. Yes, the best type of tats. Sidebar: I did not know I was into tats, but I have to say, I'm embracing them.
My spider senses are telling me that this guy most likely would not be interested in me. But as I have shared, I need crushes to survive. Plus, I am working on coming out of my dating shell and approaching men I like, even if I feel the guy may say no. I need to build up my tolerance for rejection.
OK, I will keep you posted. Hopefully he won't be married.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Holly and the Margarita Man
So yesterday I went to the gym and actually worked out and may I tell you that I got my ass kicked on that treadmill? To punish myself, I walked at a higher speed than I usually do and on an incline. That will teach me to slack! As my friend Dizle would say, I've got to get back to the money.
So while I am sweating and looking my grossest, who walks over to my machine but Jail House Rock, the nickname I have affectionately given the super-tatted, super-muscular possible ex-con that I had developed a crush on at the gym.
As usual, we started our conversation on the topic of Yoga. This was fine, because as I spoke about cobras and downward dogs, I was building up to my big break. Long ago, I had decided to ask him out for Margaritas at my favorite watering hole and after talking to my buddy Brownie, I got the push I needed to ask him. I mean true enough, Brownie would talk me off a ledge if he thought there would be a mildly humorous outcome, but what are you gonna do? I needed someone to co-sign on this ridiculous idea.
Before I could even wet my lips to ask him he goes, "I don't know if my wife would even want me going to a Yoga class so early."
Once he said wife I just wanted him to go away. But he didn't of course. He went on to talk about his four kids, one being 21! I was thinking damn, how old are you brotha? And when did you have time to create all these kiddies and tie the knot while serving time?
Of course, he has never told me he went to jail. I just assumed he had, with the tats and the teardrops tattoed under his right eye. I don't know what disappointed me more: his having a family or he possibly not being the thug that I had painted him to be in my mind. I do this all the time with my wild imagination, create what people might be like based on their appearance. This idea is usually fantastical. Then, when I get to know them and they are not what I had dreamed them up to be, I am disappointed.
So long story short, another crush bites the dust. I'm not too sad though. I didn't really have the cash to splurge on Margaritas.
So while I am sweating and looking my grossest, who walks over to my machine but Jail House Rock, the nickname I have affectionately given the super-tatted, super-muscular possible ex-con that I had developed a crush on at the gym.
As usual, we started our conversation on the topic of Yoga. This was fine, because as I spoke about cobras and downward dogs, I was building up to my big break. Long ago, I had decided to ask him out for Margaritas at my favorite watering hole and after talking to my buddy Brownie, I got the push I needed to ask him. I mean true enough, Brownie would talk me off a ledge if he thought there would be a mildly humorous outcome, but what are you gonna do? I needed someone to co-sign on this ridiculous idea.
Before I could even wet my lips to ask him he goes, "I don't know if my wife would even want me going to a Yoga class so early."
Once he said wife I just wanted him to go away. But he didn't of course. He went on to talk about his four kids, one being 21! I was thinking damn, how old are you brotha? And when did you have time to create all these kiddies and tie the knot while serving time?
Of course, he has never told me he went to jail. I just assumed he had, with the tats and the teardrops tattoed under his right eye. I don't know what disappointed me more: his having a family or he possibly not being the thug that I had painted him to be in my mind. I do this all the time with my wild imagination, create what people might be like based on their appearance. This idea is usually fantastical. Then, when I get to know them and they are not what I had dreamed them up to be, I am disappointed.
So long story short, another crush bites the dust. I'm not too sad though. I didn't really have the cash to splurge on Margaritas.
Friday, August 14, 2009
Taming the Beast
I am going to be honest with you and say that I have pretty much fallen off of my workout regimen. It was like I was afraid of my progress. Every time I stayed on the treadmill a minute longer or lifted a pound of extra weight on the arm curl I would reward myself by going to the pool...until all I was doing was going to the pool. What is the consequence of this? Well, besides feeling like crap and being disappointed with myself and having to get totally reacquainted with the equipment, I now have to see results in women who started working out at the same time as me that are now like 50lbs lighter. I hate not sticking to things.
So yesterday, I went to the gym and decided to workout for real for the first time in like two weeks. But I went there with one goal in mind: to do at least fifteen minutes on "the beast."
"The Beast" is the nickname that this beefed up lady that I met in the gym has nicknamed the Stair Master. She competes in fitness competitions and can stay on that thing for hours at a times at high speed, burning over 1,000 lbs. She filled my head with stories of being able to lose major weight in like two months if I got on the Stair Master instead of the treadmill. So I tried it once and fell off. Literally, I hit the floor from the top step. Luckily, my head landed on a stray yoga ball, or I probably would have cried.
Yesterday, I marched into the gym ready to get on "The Beast." This time, I was determined not to fall because there would have been a huge audience. So I asked one of the trainers, Ms. Bernice, to help me. No exaggeration: I was on the machine for a minute and forty-two seconds before I was pleading to get off. And in that minute, which was the hardest minute of my life, I burned 41 calories. I burn that in fifteen minutes on the treadmill! Clearly, taming the beast is the key to my workout...if I stick with it.
Why am I not at the gym right now? No good reason. I am sitting at home, eating Peanut Butter Cup Keebler Chips Deluxe Cookies, buy one get one free, with some cranberry juice. I felt so crappy about my crappy workout, I fell into bad, old habits. No worries. I will go tomorrow. Promise.
So yesterday, I went to the gym and decided to workout for real for the first time in like two weeks. But I went there with one goal in mind: to do at least fifteen minutes on "the beast."
"The Beast" is the nickname that this beefed up lady that I met in the gym has nicknamed the Stair Master. She competes in fitness competitions and can stay on that thing for hours at a times at high speed, burning over 1,000 lbs. She filled my head with stories of being able to lose major weight in like two months if I got on the Stair Master instead of the treadmill. So I tried it once and fell off. Literally, I hit the floor from the top step. Luckily, my head landed on a stray yoga ball, or I probably would have cried.
Yesterday, I marched into the gym ready to get on "The Beast." This time, I was determined not to fall because there would have been a huge audience. So I asked one of the trainers, Ms. Bernice, to help me. No exaggeration: I was on the machine for a minute and forty-two seconds before I was pleading to get off. And in that minute, which was the hardest minute of my life, I burned 41 calories. I burn that in fifteen minutes on the treadmill! Clearly, taming the beast is the key to my workout...if I stick with it.
Why am I not at the gym right now? No good reason. I am sitting at home, eating Peanut Butter Cup Keebler Chips Deluxe Cookies, buy one get one free, with some cranberry juice. I felt so crappy about my crappy workout, I fell into bad, old habits. No worries. I will go tomorrow. Promise.
Monday, August 3, 2009
Thug Love
There is a man that goes to my gym that I am pretty sure has killed someone. He has one of those tattooed teardrops on his face and hundreds of tattoos on his body. With huge muscles and a face that automatically gives off attitude whether he means to or not alerts me that he has probably been in prison. Dare I say that I think I have a crush?
I have only spoken to him once about coming to the Saturday morning Yoga class. The convo was going well until I noticed the teardrop and blurted, "Oh my God! Have you killed someone?!" He didn't get mad, even though, for a split second, I was sure he was going to punch me. He also didn't answer.
OK. Crushes with beaus. A beau with a baby on the way, and now an ex-con. I know it seems like I am going from bad to worst. But he seems nice! He waves to me when he sees me. Plus, minus the tear drop he has beautiful skin and minus the tats he has a nice body. Besides the whole prison thing, he is hot!
What is it about bad boys that is so alluring? Maybe not even bad guys, but the idea of "the wrong guy;" the man that has nothing you are looking for besides a body and a nice car. My guess would be that they are just more fun than the guy with the formal education and the kid-ready minivan.
I say that I am guessing, because I don't know...yet. I have been toying with the idea of asking this 36-year-old gang-banger out on the town. Maybe to Applebee's for a Mangorita? Now I know that I said that I had sworn off men and the idea of dating. But he's cute and I'm young. Plus, I hear that bad guys like good girls. You can't get any cleaner than I. Who knows, this could be the "one." If not, I could at least get some time out with a cute older man and a Mangorita.
Let's just hope his former lifestyle is just that. I'd hate to be the story behind his second teardrop.
I have only spoken to him once about coming to the Saturday morning Yoga class. The convo was going well until I noticed the teardrop and blurted, "Oh my God! Have you killed someone?!" He didn't get mad, even though, for a split second, I was sure he was going to punch me. He also didn't answer.
OK. Crushes with beaus. A beau with a baby on the way, and now an ex-con. I know it seems like I am going from bad to worst. But he seems nice! He waves to me when he sees me. Plus, minus the tear drop he has beautiful skin and minus the tats he has a nice body. Besides the whole prison thing, he is hot!
What is it about bad boys that is so alluring? Maybe not even bad guys, but the idea of "the wrong guy;" the man that has nothing you are looking for besides a body and a nice car. My guess would be that they are just more fun than the guy with the formal education and the kid-ready minivan.
I say that I am guessing, because I don't know...yet. I have been toying with the idea of asking this 36-year-old gang-banger out on the town. Maybe to Applebee's for a Mangorita? Now I know that I said that I had sworn off men and the idea of dating. But he's cute and I'm young. Plus, I hear that bad guys like good girls. You can't get any cleaner than I. Who knows, this could be the "one." If not, I could at least get some time out with a cute older man and a Mangorita.
Let's just hope his former lifestyle is just that. I'd hate to be the story behind his second teardrop.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Fat Frustration
I have been working out for two months at about five times a week for three hours at a time and I doubt that I have lost one ounce!
The only thing that is more frustrating than having to work out in the first place is not seeing any results. I have a goal here people! By next summer I need to be sexy enough to seduce boys that have passed me over, and by this December I need to be small enough to wear a tummyless toga to my birthday party. The clock is ticking!
I guess what is even more annoying than my lack of progress is again, the random people at the gym that cheer me on with every step that I take on the treadmill. I have never been one for encouragement, especially from happy, skinny, pretty people that I don't know. I know that they mean well, but they just get under my skin.
"Hang in there," some old buff man told me while I was working out on some thigh thingy. "It takes a while."
He patted me on my back and I wanted to bite his fingers.
The whole thing just blows! I feel like I practically live at the gym, and I am still just as fat and out of shape as I was two months ago when I started. I'm annoyed enough without the cheering on from strangers and the people telling me I look like I'm losing when I am not just so I don't stop working out.
I don't know. Maybe the bitchy, pissed off mood is just part of one of the stages of losing weight, which is fine I guess. I just would like to know what stage it is when I will actually start losing weight.
The only thing that is more frustrating than having to work out in the first place is not seeing any results. I have a goal here people! By next summer I need to be sexy enough to seduce boys that have passed me over, and by this December I need to be small enough to wear a tummyless toga to my birthday party. The clock is ticking!
I guess what is even more annoying than my lack of progress is again, the random people at the gym that cheer me on with every step that I take on the treadmill. I have never been one for encouragement, especially from happy, skinny, pretty people that I don't know. I know that they mean well, but they just get under my skin.
"Hang in there," some old buff man told me while I was working out on some thigh thingy. "It takes a while."
He patted me on my back and I wanted to bite his fingers.
The whole thing just blows! I feel like I practically live at the gym, and I am still just as fat and out of shape as I was two months ago when I started. I'm annoyed enough without the cheering on from strangers and the people telling me I look like I'm losing when I am not just so I don't stop working out.
I don't know. Maybe the bitchy, pissed off mood is just part of one of the stages of losing weight, which is fine I guess. I just would like to know what stage it is when I will actually start losing weight.
Friday, June 5, 2009
Fit and Freaky
I guess that I am a sexual person, and I guess that everyone else is too. I also understand that everyone wants to get laid and that no one wants to be alone. But not until I started going to the gym did I really start to understand the desperateness of it all.
If all the power was off in my gym, the lights could run on the sexual energy of the place. They guys are all sweaty and pretending to not notice the girls checking them out, and the girls do their stretches making sure that their booties are extra tooted in the air.
When I first started attending this gym, I laughed at the women who acted like they didn't know how to use the machines so that a man would come help them as well as at the men who always just happened to end up toweling themselves down in front of the ladies' locker room. But today, I found myself getting sucked in.
There was this guy who had to be in his mid-50s. He was an Omega. This I know from the brand on his arm. And even though he was old enough to be my daddy, may I just say that he was fine? He was all sexy and big and sweaty. He seemed to be everywhere I turned, probably because I was following him from machine to machine. If only I had the guts of some of the other chicks at the gym who would have skipped over to him in their color-coordinated Nike short set claiming to not know where the weights were, I might have walked away with a phone number.
Instead, I walked away feeling gross. Not because he was old, but because of the sexuality on display all around me. It almost felt like it was on sale. And as much as I hate seeing women act silly to attract a man, I was totally wishing that one of the racketball players asked me how much I cost. Or maybe one of the basketball players. Ugh, this is so gross! I will keep you posted though. Observing the predator-esque skills of everyone else in the gym and putting my own spin on it, maybe I can snag this trainer I have my eye on. So much for having dignity.
If all the power was off in my gym, the lights could run on the sexual energy of the place. They guys are all sweaty and pretending to not notice the girls checking them out, and the girls do their stretches making sure that their booties are extra tooted in the air.
When I first started attending this gym, I laughed at the women who acted like they didn't know how to use the machines so that a man would come help them as well as at the men who always just happened to end up toweling themselves down in front of the ladies' locker room. But today, I found myself getting sucked in.
There was this guy who had to be in his mid-50s. He was an Omega. This I know from the brand on his arm. And even though he was old enough to be my daddy, may I just say that he was fine? He was all sexy and big and sweaty. He seemed to be everywhere I turned, probably because I was following him from machine to machine. If only I had the guts of some of the other chicks at the gym who would have skipped over to him in their color-coordinated Nike short set claiming to not know where the weights were, I might have walked away with a phone number.
Instead, I walked away feeling gross. Not because he was old, but because of the sexuality on display all around me. It almost felt like it was on sale. And as much as I hate seeing women act silly to attract a man, I was totally wishing that one of the racketball players asked me how much I cost. Or maybe one of the basketball players. Ugh, this is so gross! I will keep you posted though. Observing the predator-esque skills of everyone else in the gym and putting my own spin on it, maybe I can snag this trainer I have my eye on. So much for having dignity.
Friday, May 8, 2009
Getting Physical
The other day I think that I lost my virginity to the bicycle seat in my spin class.
Recently, I joined a gym. It just kind of happened. I went to the gym office to receive a free two week pass that I didn't plan on using when I was sweet-talked into buying a membership. What can I say? The skinny white teenagers in bikinis looked like they were having so much fun in the pool in the orientation video.
Fast forward to Tuesday. I decided to go with my Aunt Lara to a spin class. For those of you who do not know, a spin class in this super intense group bicycling class. I had first heard about it on some show about celebrity work out trends. I don't know why I, at over 400lbs, though I could take the same work-out class that Halle Berry takes six times a week but what the hell? On the show, it looked fun.
So I got to the class early because I was excited, which was good, because it took 20 minutes for the instructor, who was as big as I was in the third grade, to strap me on to the bike,
"There," she said, stepping back and smiling at me on the bike, "doesn't that feel good?"
"Yes," I lied.
I assume that she could tell I did not feel good, but walked away anyway. My feet were strapped onto the peddles with leather straps. The seat was so high that I was hunched over the bike, and the sharp tip of the seat felt like it was actually in my vagina. Just maintaining that God-awful position was a workout. I was sweating profusely, and those who know me know that I never sweat.
Literally three minutes into the class, I left. I unhooked myself from the bike and walked out. It was just too hard, and I felt pathetic because I hate giving up on something. But I had to force myself to come to terms with the fact that I couldn't do it before I started screaming in the middle of the gym.
As I started walking back to the locker room, I became very angry that I even joined the gym in the first place. Everyone was sexy and skinny and cute and young and flirting with each other over blueberry soy smoothies. I clearly didn't belong there. I have never felt out of place waiting for my order at McDonald's or shopping at Lane Bryant. How was I supposed to want to work out next to tall, brown, super muscular topless men in small shorts? The idea made me want to cry.
And cry I did next to a naked lady in the steam room. I guess some things, unlike placing my order for a Number 1 with an ice cream cone and three cookies for a dollar, are difficult to do.
Recently, I joined a gym. It just kind of happened. I went to the gym office to receive a free two week pass that I didn't plan on using when I was sweet-talked into buying a membership. What can I say? The skinny white teenagers in bikinis looked like they were having so much fun in the pool in the orientation video.
Fast forward to Tuesday. I decided to go with my Aunt Lara to a spin class. For those of you who do not know, a spin class in this super intense group bicycling class. I had first heard about it on some show about celebrity work out trends. I don't know why I, at over 400lbs, though I could take the same work-out class that Halle Berry takes six times a week but what the hell? On the show, it looked fun.
So I got to the class early because I was excited, which was good, because it took 20 minutes for the instructor, who was as big as I was in the third grade, to strap me on to the bike,
"There," she said, stepping back and smiling at me on the bike, "doesn't that feel good?"
"Yes," I lied.
I assume that she could tell I did not feel good, but walked away anyway. My feet were strapped onto the peddles with leather straps. The seat was so high that I was hunched over the bike, and the sharp tip of the seat felt like it was actually in my vagina. Just maintaining that God-awful position was a workout. I was sweating profusely, and those who know me know that I never sweat.
Literally three minutes into the class, I left. I unhooked myself from the bike and walked out. It was just too hard, and I felt pathetic because I hate giving up on something. But I had to force myself to come to terms with the fact that I couldn't do it before I started screaming in the middle of the gym.
As I started walking back to the locker room, I became very angry that I even joined the gym in the first place. Everyone was sexy and skinny and cute and young and flirting with each other over blueberry soy smoothies. I clearly didn't belong there. I have never felt out of place waiting for my order at McDonald's or shopping at Lane Bryant. How was I supposed to want to work out next to tall, brown, super muscular topless men in small shorts? The idea made me want to cry.
And cry I did next to a naked lady in the steam room. I guess some things, unlike placing my order for a Number 1 with an ice cream cone and three cookies for a dollar, are difficult to do.
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