Tiger Does the Plank
I’m sore. Very sore. Despite this, my newly acquired, debt increasing gym membership, has led me to get all ‘rah, rah’ about working out. I’m looking forward to having Monday off and going to Pilates. Here’s the deal, I’m one of crazy types who loses weight when most others are gaining weight. College for instance, I weighed considerably less and instead of putting on a Freshman 15, I lost 20lbs. While this could’ve been attributed to a number of things, like people flying planes into buildings just 5 miles away and the stress of having B-52 bombers hovering about; I will attribute it to the Jacob’s Fitness Center being on the other side of the sprawling American University Campus. Thinking back, I don’t understand how people actually gained weight, because for me it was quite simple. We’re paying for that shit (on top of Ben Ladner’s foie gras of course), so why not go? It’s like 45 feet away. Anyway, during sophomore year, my drug of choice was Xenadrine and there was that sniper thing. So, more stress, drugs, and the gym. Now if that doesn’t lead to weight loss, I don’t know what will. Then in Spain, while many friends had gained weight during their semester abroad, I lost weight again. Really I don’t know why, since the only stress I endured was deciding where to go out at night. But whatever. Coming back, I gained weight, because Hello! Chipotle. I missed that place almost as much as I missed my mom-a lot (but a lot of a good thing will inevitably make you ill or want to punch things).
Anyway, for months I had planning on this gym thing, because I needed it. Not wanted. Needed. Gym time, cures boredom and keeps me from watching countless hours of the O.C. It’s $70 per month well spent. There’s yoga and pilates and ellipticals (Oh My!). It produces those wonderful little endorphins that make us smiley little fuckers and promotes general conditioning and well being. And if that’s not enough, I read an article that said that regular workouts help to improve one’s golf game. As of late, golf game blows and my father’s dreams of me being Annika Sorenstam have been dashed to the wind.
So there is no real weight loss goal, just the ability to drive my topflite XL such that I don’t curse my father, the air, my golf club, the direction of the grass, whatever, for my faulty game. I say aim low and that way when I lose 20lbs in the process, it will be like a nice little gift.