Crap, Damn it and Tears!

Can you believe it? I got booted out of the ‘move it to lose it’ class! When I signed in for my first full session with the others in the class a supervisor pulled me aside while Julie, the class trainer, took the others upstairs. Boss Lady said that Julie is concerned that “I won’t be successful” and to get my “money’s worth at the YMCA” she feels I need to start at a lower intensity workout to “reach my personal goals.” Crap! I came very close to crying right there in front of Boss Lady. “It’s your choice” she went on, “but we feel with your prosthetic knees that a personal trainer is a better way go.” Bottom line: For the $150 fee I paid, they’re setting me up with eight half-hour one-on-one training sessions with Julie and she’ll give me homework to do on my own plus I’m to take two, free drop-in classes a week for a lower intensity work out than the paid class I signed up for. In reality, I’m probably getting a better value for my money but still, I hate rejection! They’ve got two dozen drop-in classes---none with a cool name like ‘move it to lose it’---but only seven are recommended for me “at this point in time.” Translation: I’m a wimpy old lady! 

Boss Lady then took me to the strength training circuit room where earlier in the week I got the initial evaluation that I thought I did great on but I apparently flunked it. She designed a program for me to do on the machines, wrote down all the settings I’m to use on each of ten machines. After doing the full program we parted and I hopped on the treadmill. In the future I can take the training sheet of notes out of a filing cabinet and do the program on my own anytime I want. Honesty, I was very upset at getting kicked out of the class but I’m also stubborn and if someone tells me I can’t do something I work all the harder to prove them wrong. Julie better be prepared to be amazed. If you saw the Princess Bride you’ll understand the tone I’m using here on Julie. “My name is Inigo Montaya. You killed my father. Prepare to die!”

After I left the Y I came home for a quick shower and off I went again. This time to a lecture on the vintage architecture in our city’s downtown. Over the years, I couldn’t get enough of lectures and tours on architecture but for some reason this one did me in---maybe it was the over-heated room or the fact that I’d gotten up before the sun or that I hadn’t had breakfast or lunch yet. Whatever the reason I was glad when it was over and I was one of the first people to leave the parking lot. I drove to a nearby restaurant and ordered a plate smothered with scrambled eggs, bacon and an English muffin with orange marmalade. Damn it, don’t judge me, I was hungry! If I had wanted to feed the rejected little girl inside me, I would have gone to Culver’s for ice cream. (Not that I didn't think about it.)

I drove home on autopilot, my thoughts as scrambled as the eggs I’d just eaten but when pulled into the garage and turned off the motor, the radio was still playing a Willie Nelson song. My husband was a huge Willie Nelson fan and the song was one of his favorites.

“I guess I never told you

I am so happy that you're mine

Little things I should have said and done

I just never took the time

You were always on my mind.”

At first, silent tears rolled down my cheeks. I miss him! I miss having someone in my life who could have hugged me when I got rejected by a stupid exercise class, who cares when my feelings and pride get hurt. By the time the song was finished I was sobbing loudly and I could hear the dog barking on the other side of the door between the house and the garage. I want to believe he was barking in sympathy, but he probably just wanted the Milk-Bone treat I always give him when I get home and I was taking too long to get inside. Ya, he cares but he's a demanding little bugger. “You were always on my mind,” I guess those words reminded me that my past and future are only separated by a thin, window of fragile feelings. ©