Confessions of A Naughty Girl

According to "Jim"

In an homage to Aaron Karo (whose live standup I'm going to see next week!), enjoy:

Everyone has probably had, is currently having, or is unfortunately doomed to have a love-hate relationship. You know, a relationship that starts out like an innocent little train ride and then meanders its way up and down a rollercoaster-like path until you get off five years later with mussed up hair, heavy breath, and what I like to call "rel-ame", or relief that it's over, quickly followed by shame that it ever even happened.

Of all of the love-hate relationships I've been in, I can assure you that none is as volatile as my relationship with "Jim". Ever since I was a flat-chested ten year old girl with a poufy Afro and tortoiseshell glasses, I've struggled with my relationship with Jim. And sadly, this is still the case today.

I have never been naturally athletic, and it's sad, because for all of the general competitiveness, compulsiveness, and ambition that I hold in my pinky finger alone, I have never been able to channel it into the healthy habit of visiting the Jim. I played tennis, I played lacrosse, I played kickball in Jim class (even if the only reason I was ever picked first, if at all, was because I was friends with whoever was chosen captain), but it never really "stuck". I envy anyone out there who have been working out consistently, day after day, for years on end, because it takes a lot of discipline and stamina to do so. Discipline and stamina that I only seem to have when it comes to work, my social life, or skills of a sexual nature.

Jim and I have been friends, on-and-off, for about 10 years. My Jim habit has always gone in the way of bipolar spurts where I work out five days a week for a couple of weeks on end, followed by three months of "rest" - in other words, gluttonous eating like a sloth and what some might consider a marriage between my ass and any available couch. Unfortunately for me, maintaining good health cannot be achieved by my two-weeks-on, three-months-off approach to my Jim.

But recently, I have started to reconcile with Jim in a major way. I have started to compromise with, and sacrifice for Jim, because I realize that I really need him in my life. And ever since we made peace a couple of weeks ago, I have never felt better, and have been sleeping a lot better at night.

Jim does funny things to people, though. I thought I'd share a few observations here:

Why is the inner thigh machine always located in the most public area of the Jim? I went over to use it last night, and found that it was conveniently facing a slew of abdominal crunchers. So as I straddled the machine, legs wide open, crushing fifty pounds of weight between my thighs, I busted some freckly-ass, pudgy kid trying to get a little voyeuristic Penthouse action in with his crunches while I am nobly (is that a word?) working out. I shot him a polite "f*ck you" and kept my concentration on the wall behind him.

Meathead guys at the Jim are crazy. They can bench 250 lbs. of weight with any part of their body (elbow included), but their necks can't support their heads. They look like bobblehead dolls to me. Do any other women out there seriously find this attractive?

The best situation is when you're on a machine in a long line of machines, and you get stuck Stairmastering next to a short, scrawny guy that is competing with you. Oh yes, he'll look over to match your speed, your resistance, and your heart rate - and raise you. If this were a f*cking race, cowboy, I would have signed up for the Boston Marathon. Keep your eyes somewhere else (but not on anyone on the inner thigh machine, please).

Trixie Fondas will always be all over Jim. You know who I'm talking about - those dumb bitches with the perfect bodies that have never worked out a day in their lives, and go to the gym solely to talk on their cell phones, reapply their makeup, and make you feel bad about yourself. I just have one message for those bitches: osteoporosis. May you be blessed with it in your old age.

There's always at least one person who is obsessed with the medicine ball. This person believes that any and all fitness goals can be achieved using the Ball. They'll sit down in the stretching area with the Ball, doing crunches, then bounce up and down on the ball, doing cardio, then move the ball to the weight area, lifting it over their heads like they're lifting barbells. The Ball people are crazy. Stay away from them. They're like the gym equivalent of the dad in "My Big Fat Greek Wedding" who sprayed Windex on a body part any time he was sick.

Finally, I would highly recommend against using the "use Jim for the smoothies" approach to dealing with your own personal Jim. My plan was to treat myself with a smoothie after each workout, as a prize for being so good. I went through that phase in college, and ended up at the Rec Center every day - not to work out, but because I was addicted to the strawberry smoothies. How "re-lame".

posted by KA @ 8:39 AM