Just do it already

The local YMCA and one of the hospitals have teamed up to start a program called Go! Fit here in town. They're offering a FREE 3 month membership to any county resident for any local YMCA or Curves location.

I called my friend Michelle, who already has a membership at the Y and asked her if she wanted to buddy up and join me. Sure, she said, and I'll sign my son up to swim while we're there. Yay! It sounded like a plan.

Since it's probably been about 6 years since I've worked out in a gym, I decided to get my workout clothes ready the night before.

I squeezed into my bike shorts. Oh, no, my ass looks huge in these.

I pulled on my black leggings. Black still doesn't prevent my legs from looking like two sausages.

I slipped on my baggy sweats. Oh geez, now I just look like a frump.

So what does any self-respecting woman do? That's right. I went and bought new workout clothes.

The next day, Michelle and I headed to the gym, which is literally a little over a mile from my house. I confidently strode toward the front desk, rockin' my bright top and yoga pants.

"I would like to sign up for the GO fit program, please."

"Great! Just to let you know, we've gotten a higher demand than we anticipated, so we're going to have to delay your start until February 12."

Wha?!?!

I felt like I was on the Biggest Loser and getting kicked off the ranch before I even weighed in. Really? You didn't anticipate that you might get a large response when you offered a free membership to 1,300,000 residents of the county?

I disappointedly looked at Michelle, who suggested I stay as her guest. I gave them my contact information and followed Michelle into the women's locker room. For those of you who watched the first episode of this season's Biggest Loser, you know that they had the contestants do their initial weigh-in in front of their friends, family and town members. It was a devastating wake up call for all of them.

So I headed to the scale and told Michelle to watch me weigh myself.

"I don't need to watch you weigh yourself," Michelle looked away.

"I need to be shamed into losing weight. Just stand there and see what I weigh."

It was a traditional balance beam scale and Michelle watched as I slid the clunky 150 pound marker over.

"See? You don't even weigh 150!"

"No....I weigh more than 150. I need to slide this thingy over."

"Oh."

Slide...not balanced....slide....not balanced...slide...still not balanced. There we go.

"Look. This is what a pig I am."

"What? There's no way you weigh that! The scale must be broken. Excuse me! Could you come over here, please, this scale is broken," Michelle yelled down the hall.

"SHH!!!! It's not broken. That's really what I weigh."

"Oh."

I followed Michelle into the fitness room and I jumped on the Stairmaster. There were a spattering of people there and we were all facing the mirrored wall.



As the Stairmaster started taking me through the random routine, I gradually started to feel stronger.

This isn't so bad, I thought to myself as I glanced in the mirror. I look pretty cute in my hot pink top.

Step. Step. Step. Step.

Hey, I think I see definition in my thighs already.

Step. Step. Step. Step.

I glanced over at the guy in (way too) short shorts. Hey, look at me! I'm so athletic. I shouted in my head. He didn't look.

Step. Step. Step. Step.

I stared at the woman in the red sweatshirt. Look at me. Look AT me! Nothin'.

Step. Step. Step. Step.

I bored holes in the back of the man's head who was sitting on the bike in front of me. Hey. Hey. You. You. Look up. Look up. Look in the mirror. Look UP!

Step. Step. Step. Step.

As the speed increased on the stairs, my breathing became more shallow and I felt myself starting to sweat. (I don't delicately perspire - I SWEAT) I glanced at myself in the mirror and could see the sweat trickling down my neck and staining my tee an even darker shade.




Keep going, Chrissy! Think of your Lucky jeans that you haven't fit into since the summer.

stepstepstepstepstepstepstepstepstepstepstepstepstepstepstepstep

I looked at myself in the mirror.

Oh God! My face was bright red, my tee shirt soaked and my hair was plastered to my cheeks. I looked awful.

I caught "short shorts" looking at me in the mirror.

Stop looking at me! I'm hideous. Stop, I say. STOP!

The random routine ended and I slunk off the stairs, trying not to draw any more attention to myself. I know now that I pushed myself too hard the first day.

I mean, really, who can do five minutes right off the bat??