And the gold medal goes to....

Sunday, January 25, 2009

I worked out two days in a row. And I expect a medal for doing so. I HATE working out. And I think that anyone who says they enjoy it, is lying. Now, I do love the way I feel after working out but the actual working out part? Not so much.

I've never been what anyone would remotely describe as athletically inclined. Very early on, I tried to find excuses to get out of gym class but it usually didn't work. Even though I did mature early, it was a stretch to convince the gym teacher that I had my period in the second grade.

Between the 5th and 6th grade, I had a huge growth spurt and suddenly became the belle of the ball when it came to picking sides for volleyball and basketball. Over the course of the year, though, they realized my skills weren't any better at a higher altitude and I was once again relegated to be one of the remaining two. "I guess we'll take Chrissy." Their other choice was a boy who spent all of elementary school with at least one of his appendages in a cast.

I didn't become completely horrified by PE class until the year I entered junior high at 13. While I knew that the physical requirements would be greater, I didn't realize that my worst enemy wouldn't be the parallel bars but the dreaded gym suit.

It was a gold one piece number that zipped up the front. It had no collar, an elastic waist and a striped top over a solid bottom that barely covered your butt. When I say gold, I know you're picturing royal dressing gowns. Well, don't. It was more like a mustard color. And not that sunny French's mustard color but more like muddy Grey Poupon.

It came in three sizes, Small, Medium and Large and was a poly/cotton combo. If you were over 5' tall, it didn't really stretch very much lengthwise and I think that's how the term "camel-toe" came to be. Since it was the year 1979, there weren't many of us wearing tampons yet, so when it was your "time of the month", your "camel-toe" now looked like it was carrying cargo on its back. There were no slim pads with wings, no mini pads, no lightdays pads. There were Kotex Maxi and Kotex Maxi plus. Each was about 3 inches thick and if you were lucky, the adhesive strip would stay in place all day. Or at least through gym class. You always knew the girls whose strips didn't stay in place because by the end of 4th period, they were wearing a sweatshirt tied around their waist. C'mon, girls, you know what I'm talkin' about. Oh, the horrors!

We had to master a President's fitness test in order to be able to pass the class so we practiced. A lot. I spent most of the 7th grade with my inner thighs raw from attempting to climb the rope and touch the ceiling while making sure that my butt wasn't hanging out. They tried to fool me into thinking that these skills would be useful later in life but I can't recall any job interviews that have required me to climb a rope or dodge a ball.

Instead, I'll claim my small victories. Like working out two days in a row.


  1. I always enjoyed gym class. It was a chance for my little self to express how manly I was becoming. I was totally oblivious to any lady issues that may have been happening around me.
    What a brilliant reposting idea! (I won't steal this one)

  2. "Lady Issues". That's funny. Steal away, my friend!


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