Gym Time, Part Deux

I joined the gym on Sunday. The head Personal Trainer doesn't work on Sunday, so I didn't get to meet her until last evening (one has to establish current weight, body fat percentage, goals, etc). When I got to the gym, at 4:30, I changed into my athletic shorts (wearing tighty whities under, for safety), tee shirt and gym shoes, thinking that I would be on the treadmill and the weight machines - relatively unnoticed by the population at large. Ha!

She took down all my information on my information sheet, put it in my own, personal folder, and dutiful gorgeous young woman that she is, she decided to show me all these OTHER things I COULD do to maximize my effectiveness with my time at the gym. All of which needed to take place in this large open area where they have the mats and pilates balls. Because that's what she had me using - the mats and the pilates balls.

And there are mirrors EVERYWHERE.

You know the kind of shorts that feel like they're made of thin umbrella material? You should never, EVER wear those things when you have to flop around on the floor, and on the pilates balls, or just generally right out there in front of the Goddess and everybody.

Now I know what it feels like when a woman has to constantly tug at the hem of a wayward skirt that just constantly seems to head north.

To paraphrase the ever lovely William Bendix, what a revoltin' development THAT was.

Sweatpants with seams intact ONLY, from now on.

Promise.

Ndinombethe.