always be honest, except for when you lie

Sunday, November 28, 2004

lifting heavy things

You won't believe it but I am about to join my Old Gym even though I vowed I wouldn't go back. It turns out my outcry of injustice regarding the membership card was little more than grandstanding. I love my old gym. I love it. Please take me back, Old Gym.

I woke up today with that strong desire to lift heavy things. Sure, my kids are heavy, but I'm thinking more of things that don't talk or cry or whine or require constant neverending feeding. Therefore, I am to return to my Old Gym and offer them approximately forty dollars per month for one full year so that I can go there way too early in the day to lift things and maybe step up and down up and down to music once in a while.

I used to teach aerobics and weight lifting. Frankly, prior to having my children I was in spectacular shape. I swore this would not change after having kids but I didn't know. I wasn't informed. Babies, although small and unable to move around a lot, require a great freakin' deal of time and attention. Mostly at night. And not sleeping for years at a stretch makes going to the gym - difficult.

Excuses Excuses.

Yesterday I was making a bed or putting away someone's laundry or carrying some person down the stairs when I remembered what it was like to have the thighs of a woman who leg pressed four hundred and ten pounds. That's when it hit. Time to go back. Sure, I'll be starting out at 30 pounds on the leg press and crying over it being oh so fucking heavy but a girl's gotta start somewhere, yeah?

Some people think that once you're a mom you should A) shut up and go to PTA meetings between batches of cookie baking and B) accept that you will never be hot again.

Fuck that shit. I will do the PTA and bake the cookies but I will also be hot and I will lift four hundred and ten pound with my legs again. Children make me stronger. I am stronger than ever. I am, I said.