Pump Me Up

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A little over a year and a half ago, I wrote a blog entry about me taking a weight training class. I had hoped that class would help me maintain my slim and sessy. No, my fingers don’t have a lisp, and yes, I realize sessy is not a word — but I like the way it sounds. Feel free to add it to your daily vocabulary.

Anyhow, that class didn’t work in my favor, mainly because the teacher hated me. Ok, so maybe punctuality wasn’t my strong suit for that class, but there was a ten minute grace period — although he conveniently had a clock that was fast and I always magically managed to arrive the second he decided it was time to lock the doors. Never mind mid-way that semester he decided to not enforce the rule. I don’t know why he didn’t like me. I suppose wearing that Beyonce tour shirt didn’t help. Well I wore a Prince one, too!

So, my goal to add one muscle (I had very low expectations at the time: I felt it was best to work my way to several muscles gradually) fell through.

I opted for running this year. It has helped with stress, given me the feeling that I’m taking better care of my health (I’ve given into that eat healthier mantra, too), and thanks to my brother, I felt somewhat less afraid of a possible arrest (he told me I run fast enough to outrun the po po’s).

Unlike Mo’Nique, I don’t adhere to the adage that skinny bitches are evil. Heart attacks, diabetes, and high cholesterol aren’t sessy. She’s cool, but hey, I’m not messing with her cookbook. I know a stroke on paper when I see it. Plus, I used to be fat, and yeah, I tend to get paranoid about becoming a Klump again.

So, to continue to fight off my paranoia (or let it consume me, take your pick), I’ve joined a gym. I started today. I’ve been under a lot of stress lately, so today was the perfect today to kick off my goal to add three muscles. See: I’m already aiming higher.

Thanks to that weight training class, I already had an idea of what machines to not go near. One bad experience is all it takes. I did make the mistake on a few machines today. I stood there looking confused — like I see the visual on the machine, but it’s not connecting. I took it as a sign…that I’m sometimes too pitiful to ask for help. There’s always tomorrow.

I’m not shooting to be swole. No offense to my larger than life friends. I’m sure it looks good on you. I see Melly Mel won’t let it go even at the age of 109 (or probably 40-something, but same difference), so it’s obvious it’s great for some people. Not me, though. I like to be lean, only more toned, and a bit muscular. When someone asks me to lift something, I still want to say no, but I want to know inside that I could lift it if I really wanted to.

Wish me luck. Oh yeah, if you’re wondering if I’m going to flake, fret not because it ain’t happening. I already had to pay first and last month’s fees. I will get results since my bank account already has.

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