For the last 3 years or so, I've been a member at one of those gyms for girls who don't like gyms. You know, the ones that have a pre-set circuit that you do each time you go in. They play oldies and Cher songs that have been turned into techno beats. I'm telling you, you haven't lived till you've heard Cher's cover of "Walking in Memphis" with some kickin' bass behind it! This is a very well-known fitness franchise, wink wink.(I'm not sure if it's kosher to tell you that I'm talking about Curves, so I won't mention it.)
But for the last year or so, I haven't been going faithfully. And here are my excuses, in no particular order:
1. Life has gotten much busier.
2. Their hours are weird. Like, they're closed everyday from 11:30am-2:30pm, which would be the optimal time for me to go: the kids are napping and Jason can work uninterrupted while I'm gone. And they close for the day at 7pm, so I can't go after the kids are asleep.
3. They have no childcare.
4. I am kind of lazy.
And in the last 4 months, since Grace was born? Not happening, dude. And so, my workouts diminisheth and my muffin top increaseth. Yea, verily.
Note: Artistic representation of said top.
I've enjoyed working out there. It's simple and unintimidating. And frankly, as one of the younger women, I'd be-bop around there feeling all fit and cute and stuff. (This factor is not to be discounted in one's exercise regimen.) But, I haven't been going. And in La Casa Down Under, we have been trying to cut costs. We gave up our membership at the Yacht Club*, I now make our own soap and candles**, and Jason gave up his gym membership too. So it was time for me to do the same.
I have been putting it off for a couple months now. Because I didn't want to have to call them and get grilled about why I'm quitting. The manager is a nice but very firm woman, kind of stern, and I didn't want to face her. I know!! I don't owe these people any explanation, you say. And you say rightly. But, you can ask my mama, it is embedded in my personality to: feel obligated to apologize for things I have no control over and to avoid disappointing people at all costs. Thanks, middle-child syndrome! You're awesome. I am every telemarketer's dream! Before I married Jason and he taught me to toughen up a bit, if a waiter brought me the wrong order in a restaurant, I would eat it anyway. I KNOW. I AM JUST TELLING YOU. I am really much better now.
Am I still talking? Oh, yes. So, today I called when they were closed for the midday break (classic conflict avoidance technique--I have many)and broke the news on the voicemail. So that way, when they called back, I could just get on with business.
And you know what? They called back. And it was no big deal. They didn't even try to get me to reconsider. She was all, "That's totally fine. You just need to come in and sign the cancellation form."
Jason knows how and why I've been putting this off. So when I told him that I'd actually called and was taking the kids and going over there to do it, he chuckled. "That's good babe," he said, smirking at me. "Safety in numbers. You can hide behind the children." Smartass.***
So I went in, and tried to look all flustered-mom-with-no-time-to-work-out, which wasn't hard, and I signed and I'm out. Whew! It's not that I didn't like this very well-known fitness franchise that may or may not be Curves. But I haven't been going, and it's been hanging over my head as we throw this money away every month. Lord! The buildup to that was almost as emotionally intense as changing hairdressers. And there are entire episodes of Oprah about that!
That has been my day. Along with some other stuff. And tell me: are you freakish in this way like me?
*I made that up.
***To any of my church members who are particularly sensitive: sorry. But there really isn't another word I could've used. And you KNOW how Jase can be sometimes.