March resolutions: It takes three months for the gyms to clear, right?
Resolutions never work for me on Jan. 1 — or anytime in January, really — because I’m too busy putting away sparkly decorations, cleaning the house and eating leftover treats from festive holiday soirees. Also, February isn’t convenient either, as there are far too many seasonal events to attend, plus it’s the month of both Valentine’s Day (chocolate) and Girl Scout Cookies (Thin Mints).
So, I’ve only recently achieved my 2017 resolution of joining a gym — in mid-March. I mean, at least, it’s still technically winter; for another few days at least.
I’m notoriously bad at gyms. My first challenge is that most people go to the gym at the crack of dawn and I don’t know about your bed, but MY bed somehow gets extra comfy as the day breaks — I mean, it really turns on the charm around 7 a.m. and just gets softer and more cuddly as the morning wears on. Therefore, mornings are not my thing. In addition to my affection for bed, there’s also my penchant for muumuus — and if there’s one thing you ought not to wear to the gym, it’s a muumuu.
I’m actually not worried about looking out of place in a sea of neon Spandex and razor-back sports bras, but I am concerned that my muumuu could get caught in the inner workings of the treadmill and result in strangulation or some other deadly accident. I understand that people sometimes get injuries in gyms when they over-extend themselves, but I don’t want my coroner’s report to read, “Death by Mummuu.”
Finally, there are the gym people — and I’m not one of them. I have no idea how to count my protein grams verses my carbohydrate intake vs. my cardio output multiplied by how many ounces of water I drink.
I realize there are apps for all that, but I’d rather use my phone to play Pokémon, not try to figure out how much time I need to spend doing squats to burn off the calories in one sleeve of Thin Mints — because, admit it, who eats just one Thin Mint without devouring the whole sleeve?
Luckily, there’s a gym in my neighborhood that, while it won’t permit me showing up in a flowy muumuu, can help me with all my other challenges.
It’s a trainer-based gym — which means that you have to work with a personal trainer — and if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s keeping dates. The concept is that if you know you have to keep the appointment, you’ll show up. Also, I’m a 3-in-the-afternoon-kind-of-gal and the gym is OK with that — 3 p.m. gives me a chance to sleep in, catch up on email, feed the cats and try to find something chic to sweat in that won’t get caught in any fancy fitness equipment.
And bonus — if I start working out at 3, I’ll be done just in time for Happy Hour.
Here’s hoping my trainer can help me calculate how many lunges it takes to work off a double margarita. ¦
— Ciao for now, my lovelies! Stay tuned for another divalicious diary entry next week …