Miss Congeniality Hits the Gym |
Great Moments In Gym History: here's the first update on my 30-day campaign to end my invisibility at the gym.
Day 3: The weightlifting area was more crowded than usual; I counted 32 men plus me, so competition for benches was tight. I was keeping my eye on the bench I wanted to use for some upright presses, and when it finally became vacant, I grabbed my dumbbells and headed for it. But then I noticed a couple of big guys were kind of lurking near it, so I gave them a nice warm, friendly smile and courteously asked, "Hey, are y'all using this bench?"
Well these poor guys jumped a mile. They threw their hands up over their heads as if I'd just pointed a loaded gat at them and slowly backed away from the bench, shaking their heads and saying, "No ma'am, we're not using it—go right ahead" in high-pitched unison. Whoa! Way cool. Was it my formidable biceps that intimidated them? My gonad-kicking bitch-from-hell attitude? Or perhaps the fact that I was inadvertently SHOUTING AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS OVER MY DAMN IPOD.
Oops.
Anyway. So now my bench is officially free and I'm walking toward it when a friendly looking young guy approaches me. He's smiling and gesturing toward the bench and saying something, but I can't hear him because I've got the 1812 Overture blasting through my headphones. And I can't turn down the volume or remove the earplugs because I'm tenuously gripping a 35-pound dumbbell in each hand. And I can't set down the dumbbells anywhere because all the benches are taken except this one, which the nice chatty guy is standing directly in front of, blocking my access.
What to do?
After dithering around playing eyebrow charades for what seemed like an eternity, I finally dropped one of the dumbbells, as much from sheer necessity as shrewd strategy. This freed a hand to pop out an earplug just in time to hear my own voice screaming "EXCUSE ME?" at a membrane-shattering decibel. "Uh, I said I have one more set on this bench," said the nice friendly young guy, sheepishly rubbing his eardrum. "But you're welcome to work through."
"No no," I said. "You go ahead and finish your set. I'm not in a hurry." Besides, my dropped dumbbell had now rolled away and was careening dangerously close to a power rack where a precarious giant with bulging veins was squatting 950 pounds. I scuttled off in hot pursuit before it toppled him like a bowling pin.
When the nice young guy finished his set, he cheerfully waved me over for my turn. So I hoisted up my rescued 35 again and started to make my way through the crowd to the bench. But before I could get to it, a huge hairy guy sporting a pair of 180s plopped himself down on it and went to work. I smiled over at the nice young guy and rolled my eyes, mouthing the word "Feh!" (careful not to shout) in resignation. Oh well, c'est la gym vie. We exchanged facial empathy mimes and silent fehs for a few seconds; then I turned back to the huge gorilla on my bench and contemplated my options. I could assert myself and shove him off onto the floor. Or I could rerack the damn dumbbells before they dismembered my poor elbow joints and go do some pull-ups.
So there I was happily doing a set of pull-ups when I spotted the owner of the gym coming out of his office. He smiled and waved at me, and being Miss Congeniality and all, naturally I smiled and waved back. Have you always wondered what would happen if you suddenly let go of the bar to wave at somebody in the middle of a pull-up? Well, this just in: Your body plummets to the floor, ripping one shoulder out of its socket on the way and sending the rotator cuff off to live with Baby Jesus for the summer. And you lie there in an embarrassed heap, longing for your now-vanquished invisibility, thinking Hunh. Maybe Curves wouldn't be such a bad idea after all. |
Vibrating Liz |
| About the author: |
| Vibrating Liz is an avid writer, dancer, gardener, weight lifter, and cancer survivor who firmly believes that 50 is the new 18. She lives in a small rural village in the quirkiest part of the deep south with an engaging assortment of flora and fauna |
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