2.23.2011 - The First Work-out
As suggested, I arrive at the gym 30 minutes early to do some cardio before class. I mount the treadmill, plug in my ear buds and crank up the only gal that knows how to get me running - GaGa. Look at me Leandro. I'm running! I work up a good sweat, then head into class. So excited, so scared, so unprepared for what was about to happen.
OH. MY. GOD! This is so freaking hard! Leandro had the Brazilian beat pumping and it didn't stop for an hour. "Lift your legs! Arms up! Leap to the right! Squat! Lunge! Jump! Don't stop! Higher!" Oh God, I'm going to die! There was this spazzy girl in front of me that must be a dancer or a contortionist because she was kicking her quadruple-jointed Gumby legs all over the f*ing place. I was trying to dodge her blows and still see myself in the mirror - which was horrifying since EVERYTHING jiggled. Every time I did a side-kick, the fat rippled down the side of my thigh like a milky-white wave. We never stopped moving our arms! His moves are kind of dancey and he incorporates ballet-type arm movements. Up-and-down, over-and-over. My triceps waving like the American flag on the 4th of July. If I had been doing this at home, I would have paused the DVD eight times by now! I hate you spazzy dancer bitch! Out of my personal space! Okay, breathe, focus, don't give up, don't stop. Oh God, my calves are cramping! I've got a wedgie. My spare-tire is going rogue. I think I'm gonna puke. How will I survive the next two months?! And then...the cool-down. Every single girl in the room had a face the color of ripe watermelon. And now we know what to expect tomorrow. Holy shit.
We collect our cooler with the first day of food and crawl back to our lives on the outside.
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| That shirt was light green before class. |
2.24.2011 - Day Two
I slept so poorly last night. I don't know if it's the excitement, change in diet, throbbing ass muscles...or a combination of all of that, but I woke up jittery and TIRED. Get it together sister, you cannot fail! I drink my breakfast, get my kid ready for school, pack up my stuff and head out for another day of torture.
Treadmill and GaGa, water break, time for class. I move away from Spazzy McGee and opt to be in front. I say hi to a fellow test-subject and notice she looks...awful. I ask her if she's okay and she replies that she has a fever. Get the F away from me Typhoid Mary! I give her the old, "Oh no, I'm sorry," as I quickly back away hoping I didn't inhale her cooties. I position myself near Leandro. He tells us how proud he is of us for yesterday. Yeah, right. He tells us that this whole week will be all cardio - like yesterday. Oh goodie! Then he introduces a special guest; His good friend Sandra Alvim. She's super cute, super fit and almost 60-years-old! AND, she's working out next to me. Just when I thought I couldn't feel more dumpy. Well, let's get this party started Sandra.
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| Sandra Alvim |
And then he starts the music. I don't know what I was thinking when I picked out the shorts and tank-top I wore today.What the hell do I care? If I looked good, why would I be here? Just keep pushing. This time next week, you'll be so much better. Think about Monday's weigh-in. Don't stop. Don't look at the 60-year-old's rock-hard ass and abs. Don't stop! Goddamn this hurts! "Get lower! Come on Alison, lift your leg!" The Butt Master remembers my name! I let out a LOUD "woo hoo!!", and I keep moving.
He is as cruel (not really, I'm just taking dramatic license because it's funnier. I really love him...so far) as he was yesterday. This time, he makes us do push-ups. No knees. I couldn't even do ONE. I did, however stay in plank position for the full minute. Yay for strong blubber-coated abs.
Back in the locker room, I talk to Sandra Alvim, who is officially my hero. She is as nice as she is fit, and I'm really starting to love this trip.
Time for ibuprofen, dinner and snuggle time with the world's cutest toddler.
Night-night blogosphere...
