It is no secret among friends that I would like to lose the rest of the weight I gained during my three pregnancies. Really it is more about being fit and looking toned that is important to me. So, I decided I need to just use my gym’s childcare so I could work out. I finally got my rear in gear and I headed to the gym with my friend Jolie to help free the joey from the pouch that is permanently attached to my body.
Life was good. I don’t love the treadmill, but who does? I did some free-weights to help firm the old lady arm flab that seemed to be a part of the package deal when I purchased my minivan. Then I went to the machines.
Now, I was already worried about the machines, despite the endless number of times I used machines at my last gym. Still I attempted to look like I knew exactly what I was doing. Of course that doesn’t often work for me when I am clueless. I ended up asking a boneheaded question that left my looking like a complete dunce.
Oh it gets better. I saw a guy that helps me out from time to time when I teach the toddler gym class. I knew he was a trainer and was ready to pick his brain. I wanted to know how the hell I was going to get the joey to flee the pouch. He went on to say that there was no particular exercise. Rather, I just need to "lose the weight." Okay, I wasn’t feeling like a lard butt that day until this moment. Embarrassed, I let him know that I am technically in my healthy weight range. He quickly put me in my place and let me know that my muscle to fat range is clearly not. Dang! I wonder why he isn’t married...I think I need a brownie sundae.