Thursday, April 10, 2008

Why I'm not at yoga right now

I should be in the 9:35 Body Flow class right now, but since I'm not, I think I'll blog about it.

A few days ago, Tommy grabbed a big knife off the counter while I was cooking dinner and cut his pinkie finger, and he did not cry at all. Jane and Sam both yelled and cried and made him quite nervous while I washed and put an Elmo band-aid on it, but my baby still shed no tears.

That is because Tommy likes to reserve his "I'm being stabbed with a big knife" screams for the Kidzone at the gym.

My children don't have any stranger danger. They like new people, not one has even turned around to say goodbye on his or her first day of nursery at Church. (They usually start whining when they start Primary. I hypothesize it is all about the treats/no treats.) Anyway, now Tommy is hanging on my legs, whining, and doesn't want to be left anywhere, with anyone. I think he should cry it out, but the tenderhearted (or tender eardrummed) ladies of the Kidszone don't want to let him bawl.

Yesterday, I had an appointment with my trainer (actual friend named Jodi, who is very nice and not at all like my old trainer of which I will speak in the next paragraph), who wanted to talk to me about my fitness goals, but all the talk was just to get me loosened up for the real reason we were there: measuring the circumference of my thighs in front of the whole gym, then pinching me with calipers and telling me my fat content (which I totally already knew because of the new scale). I had to try to hold my thighs still while wrestling Tommy, who had already been kicked out of child area.

Just a quick story about last time I did this Trainer Talk (yeah, I keep coming back for more). Whilst lecturing me about my sometimes habit of breakfast-skipping, my old trainer sneezed into his own hands, and upon finding himself with two hands full of boogers and without a tissue, excused himself. Excused himself not to get up and find a snot rag, but to lean under the table to remove a green lunger from his upper lip, then wipe it and all the rest under the desk. Unfortunately, his hands were still wet, so he rubbed them on his nylon exercise pants.

Me, inside my head: Um, hello, Senor Trainer-man? You aren't actually under the table. I can totally see you, and I am fully grossed out. Note to self: I really must get some anti-bacterial weight lifting gloves.

Him, out loud: Okay, I'm back. Shall we have a look at those thighs, then? (Might not have been the exact words. It happened over a year ago. The snot story is 100% real, though. I can't seem to forget it. )

Sorry, I have a hard time staying on topic. (What's the topic? Quick, read post title for clues. Ah, yes.) Of course, this whole Tommy thing is all about me. He is trying to keep me down. He doesn't want his mama fit and hot (ter than already am), so he's pulling this stunt. He's so naughty.

I really do need to go to the gym during the day, though. Nights I am tired and weak. Let me illustrate: Tuesday night I planned to go meet Liz for a class where a bunch of non-dancing, mostly white ladies try hip hop moves, so it should be as entertaining as it is sweat-inducing. Instead, I found myself in a Lexus rental car, picking up 5 sundaes in the Sonic Drive-thru. (No, they weren't all for me, but you see my point, right?)

Since I saw a little of Idol Gives Back last night, I fully understand that lack of mosquito nets and malaria in Africa = real problem. Nearly-2-year-old son of stay-at-home middle class Mom in suburbia who won't go to childcare at gym? = not real problem. I get it. I really do. Just because I sometimes find myself writing my blog in the voice of Bridget Jones does not mean I am shallow and self-absorbed. It just means I read embarrassing novels sometimes.

(I do not in any way endorse the reading of Bridget Jones Diary or Bridget Jones the Edge of Reason to my blog readers. Bridget has terrible potty mouth.)


Brett & Shireen said...

Tell me you said something to Mr. Snot Man! The double handed messy sneeze is always rough - I remember that happening in Elementary school and being horribly embarrassed. Kleenex is a beautiful thing. I'm going to more regularly use the anti bacterial gel that is scattered around the gym after hearing that story.

Pam said...

Snot and all under the table. That is unforgetable! Yes, I agree with you on the whole measuring and pinching in front of everyone deal what is that all about? And hopefully Tommy will soon get over his stranger danger phase then we could do some classes together. Although I wouldn't mind trying a few later classes once in a while. Let me know how those go.

shell said...

that made me sick-yucky- I would have probably thrown up or at least dry heaved at seeing green snot everywhere. oh and how do you get your fonts to be bigger/smaller. I don't get how to do that. and I want to.

Lizzie said...

Laughing so hard right now. By the way-at the Body Jam class last night I was looking for you and I said something to my friend who was there with me that my sister in law might be coming and she said-is her name Kelly? She heard them say your name when she was there one day-Was this all on Monday?

Jolene said...

Kelly B - I think the only thing worse than having my hips measured in front of the gym and then the number called out loud is the sight of me at the Body Jam class. I was one of those terribly uncoordinated white women with absolutely no rhythm. I'm pretty sure that the instructor was laughing at me most of the time.

Poor Tommy, I did feel so sorry for him with his big tears when we saw you at the kidzone. Pam is totally using bribes of ice cream and whole bags of goldfish to get McKenna in.

All of Bridget Jone's swear words were British - it seems less naughty to me that way.

erin said...

Oh man, the two-year-old-hating-the-gym problem is all too familiar! I've concluded that I'm forever doomed to early morning and night gym trips... ugh. Good luck with that! :) Also, the snot man... what was he thinking!? SICK!!