Let me set the scene: it’s early 2011, and I mean early. My husband got a gym membership for a steal. 22 bucks a month, the student discount because he was a college student.
Naturally, the gym had a discount for referral sign ups, so my membership was an additional 15 bucks! Hot tamales! How could I resist? One of my new year resolutions was to get in shape and tighten my flabby parts way the hell up. I hopped right on that work on train, ignoring the fact that I’d never worked in my life…unless we’re counting physiotherapy. Then I’ve done plenty of it.
So, I signed up for the gym, and I was super stoked about it because they have free daycare, which meant I can go and work out whenever! The first time I, I met up with Matt’s step-mom. I felt all cool and posh, all like “headed to the gym! See ya later family!” in my [non-designer] yoga pants. Matt’s step-mom showed me some of the “beginner” equipment, and that was all fun. I felt so bad ass, being a gym member, like I was finally a part of the elite club of awesomeness.
But, Matt’s step-mom couldn’t always work out with me, and I didn’t actually know anybody in town who wanted to be my work out buddy, which is why I found myself going alone twice. Once, while Matt watched Nolan in the evening. It was quieter, which was nice. I worked out for about 20 minutes and then felt like my heart was going to explode, so I came home to flop in our bed and whine about how much everything hurt while Matt laughed at my pain. He does that.
A few days later, I dropped Nolan off at the day-care, took my time getting “ready”, and went out to the floor. All those scary gym-goers intimated me. I tried to use the beginners machines for a bit, but then decided I deserved a massage from the massage chair. I sat down in the visibly less sweaty chair and selected my “vibe.”
I didn’t realize it, but Matt and his friends were at the gym on their break. Matt walked up to me and said, “working hard, Jess?”
“Oh yeah, I just spent like an hour on the machines…just letting the chair massage these aching muscles!” I replied.
“Jess, I’ve been here for the past hour. You used two machines for a total of five minutes. You’ve been sitting in the chair for 20.”
I was shamefully caught.
Luckily, the good looking bastard didn’t stick around to gloat too much (or else he’d have been late for class).
That was actually the last time I went to the gym, too. Which marked a total of…three times going?
Why? Because a few days later, I peed on one of those fancy home pregnancy tests and found out I was pregnant [with Archer]. I totally ran off to the gym the next day and was all like CANCEL MY MEMBERSHIP BITCHES I’M PREGNANT AND GOING TO TAKE ADVANTAGE OF THIS WHOLE “EATING FOR TWO” SHIT!
Then I picked up a Big Mac and went home, where Matt forbade me from ever getting another gym membership again.