queen of the gym


i care only for fitballs, stretches and weights. the rest is for babies.

i am now queen of the gym. i have a Serious Weights Face and am obsessed with the stretch poster. it’s huge, and has about a million little drawings of different stretches for different muscle groups using different equipment. it also has a map of the human muscles (front and back). i add more stretches to my list each time i do my stretches. i’m all about back, shoulders and hips. i don’t do ones with accessories, except my fitball situps with the swiss ball. i love that thing. i have one at home, but i use it only for excited bouncing when we have guests.

i also love yoga, but am thwarted in my attempts to go regularly:
1) it’s on at 11:45 on sundays. no good if i’ve been up late.
2) if i forget to book a place i miss out. goddamn shit.

i love that yoga shit. i just love the stretches and yoga. i love the instructor – we only do baby yoga, and she’s very patient. she’s also at least 60, moves with a 10 year old’s fluidity and can put any limb anywhere. at any time.
i have noticed that my funny shaped arms, which do not appear to actually straighten to 180 degrees (thank you for point that out, Squeeze), are impeding my attaining perfect form and Nice Poses.
but i do a totally bitchin down-dog now. i even slip it in when i’m doing my stretches during my Program.

i also love weights, but i think it’s a linda hamilton thing, rather than a real passion. i like to pretend i’m looking more and more like the Red Singlet Girl i see there every time i go. she lifts about a million kgs a go, is tiny, lean and super fit. she’s all super smart, wards off dough-arse gymjerks with witty comebacks that don’t leave them cranky, and looks good in bike pants. i aspire to looking good in bike pants. those short, cotton blend ones.
(you KNOW it’s all about the fashion for me).
i want to be really strong. really tough. and yet also fleet.

i find the cardio stuff stullifying. and i wonder about those chicks who sit on the exercise bikes (from which the knee bans me) for, like 30 minutes. they are so going to have big muscley ‘up’ bums. and big muscley legs (like The Squeeze).
i am going to be lean. or maybe rippling with muscle. i haven’t decided yet.

aerobics:
1) hurts my knee because it’s all bouncy shit
2) involves the stupidest music, though i like it when the instructors sing along unashamedly. it makes me smile. they are so digging their endorphines. how cute.
3)is so simple compared to lindy hop it’s not challenging at all
4) isn’t as physically demanding as lindy, so i don’t get tired enough.

having to ease off on my knee means i can’t keep the pace up enough to get really really tired. i’m obviously the toughest person in the world, and that’s why i look so goddamn good in swimming costumes.
no, no, as i remind myself, i look wonderful whatever i wear, it’s just that my body has a whole range of textures and sensual delights that Vogue has never even imagined. having said that, i’m not ready to go swimming in what amounts to my underwear. it’s just not decent. one day i’ll get a new rashy and then i’ll be safe from cancer. i love swimming. so i’d better get one soon.

but back on the aerobics thing –
it’s probably more the case that i’ve learnt how to do aerobic exercise low-impact through swing marathoning, and am having trouble Stepping It Up for aerobics.
probably.

i have now done body combat (which i adore. at first it was because i liked pretending i was boxing, now it’s because i like the way we’re encouraged to get really tough, to pretend we’re really fighting people by the instructor. i like the noises we’re supposed to make. i try not to laugh inappropriately. but it cracks me up).
i’ve also done body jam, the one most like dance, which was most interesting, but also bloody harsh on my knee. it was taken by two women with interesting names – one was dimmy, who was obviously greek. i kept thinking about that all through the class. i kept going over the whole hiphop/latin dance + greek instructor thing. dimmy was probably short for … something.
see. this is what aerobics does to your brain. it makes you boring. that’s why dance is better – you’re too busy thinking about steps and technique to worry about ethnic patterns.

i’ve done cardio box, which was unbelievably hardcore, requiring maximum strength. it was also the only class with more than two men in it. in fact, it was 90% men. and taken by a man (and not lovely richard from body combat – no flared tracksuit pants with matching shirt for cardiobox-sam. he was hardcore). they didn’t tell you how to do anything – you just had to know how to do it. so i had to ask how to do everything. i liked using the boxing gloves, sparring and hitting the boxing bag things. i’m not sure about skipping. but i liked experimenting with weight transfer and leading with my body.

so i liked cardio box, but i hurt for a week afterwards.

i’ve also done beginners aerobics, which had some of everything, and was ok. i am avoiding body step as it’s lethal for knees. i’m also avoiding tri and body attack. just because. this week i think i’ll try strength and stability, as i saw that it involves swiss balls and has a male instructor. variety is all that’s keeping me coming to these things, so i seek it out in all its forms.

i have also noticed that obsessive interests are really uninteresting to read about. well, at least it’s not dancing any more.