No, I didn't drive under the influence of any legal or illegal substance. No, there were no cabana boys passing secret codes to me in the beach towels. No, it had nothing to do with the pole-dancing lessons I may or may not have taken in a former life.
I ventured out unarmed into the wilds of the suburban jungle, my local Wal-Mart. But that wasn't the most dangerous thing I did tonight.
Tonight, my friends, I went to our local Community Center and took a self-guided tour.
It was a scary, scary place, Interpeeps.
Oh, the meeting rooms and the child care room and the swimming pools and locker rooms seemed innocent enough. Even the gymnasium at the end of the building looked as though people were having fun.
And then I went upstairs. UP actual STAIRS. No elevator.
"This," thought I, "does not bode well for fat people such as I."
And I was so, so right.
When I got to the top of the stairs, huffing and puffing from all the strain, the first thing I noticed were Many Machines. And walking, ellipting, grunting, groaning, sliding, bending, huffing, puffing, straining, stretching, running, sweating, and acting as if they were drinking vinegar by the gallon with straws, were Many, Many Persons of Unknown Age.
And all of them - ALL OF THEM - were skinny. There was not one fat one in the bunch. They were all well-toned, fit, and without flab. As my mother used to say, they would've been tough as a bull's horn if you tried to cook 'em for dinner.
There were two additional rooms for exercise classes next to the Huge Machine Room. A kickboxing class was being held in one as I was there. I tried to imagine myself in that class. I tried really, really hard. And then someone walked by and asked what I was laughing about and I had to stop.
There is also a 1/16 mile track around the upper part of the gymnasium that connects to the Huge Machine Room. You have to be very careful not to get in the way of the people on the track or you will find yourself flattened in...well...nothing flat.
The cost for our family of four would be $150 a quarter to make use of all the facilities. 7-week classes run $17.50 for members, and include water exercise classes for poor arthritic bones such as mine. The Boy could make use of the weight room, The Girl would love the treadmills (complete with televisions on each one) and elliptical machines. Hubster will stay at home with the satellite television.
We haven't decided to commit to this yet. I have another doctor's appointment on Tuesday, and if he says what I think he'll say about the losing weight to help with other health issues, we may have no choice.
But let me just say this about that...
I hate exercising with every fiber that is in my being. I hate sweating, I hate breathing hard, I hate stretching and running and bending and I just want to be able to READ myself healthy. Is that too much to ask??? I mean really, if you knew how much my knees hurt climbing those stairs, you wouldn't want me to do it any more. Right?
OK, I'LL THINK ABOUT IT!