After work yesterday, I changed into my workout clothes (and yes, I do have some – I’m kinda like the person who doesn’t cook but owns all the gadgets. I’ve got some cute workout gear) and went to visit my local 24 Hour Fitness.
I walked, yes walked, on the treadmill for an hour and worked up quite a sweat. I started to take those super deep breaths because it felt like there just wasn’t enough oxygen in the air. I would have said the person next to me was sucking up all the oxygen but there wasn’t anyone within three treadmills distance.
Perhaps that’s because I was sweating like a running cow on a 100 degree day and no one wanted to risk getting ‘splashed’.
I gross myself out.
You think smokers wheeze? They’ve got nothing on me. I get winded turning on the TV…
with the remote.
But realistically, I can’t expect much endurance since my staple diet is cheesy potatoes and double decker tacos from Taco Bell topped off with frozen Ding Dongs. And, I gave up my very respectable – but very expensive and unaffordable at this time – passion for wine and traded it for Bud Extra *cough* err, I mean, ‘Mexican Soda’ which contains twice the daily recommended caloric intake.
Dang those Mexican Sodas.
I left the gym after an hour and drove to Costco to find something to make for dinner. Unfortunately I’m limited to things that can be prepared in 10 minutes or less so I can have it ready for the nights Chris has to be at school. I grabbed 3 frozen pizzas, a pre-cooked tri-tip, and a pre-cooked package of carnitas. As I was standing in line, I noticed the teacher who taught me Culinary skills last semester standing two people in front of me. I looked at his choices on the checkout: fresh chicken and vegetables, potatoes, and berries. I looked down at my glorified preserved fast food and immediately wondered…
Can he change my grade from last semester? Because, by all appearances, I’ve learned nothing.
Fearing that I may receive my first ‘B’ grade in 6 years, I ducked behind the lady standing in front of me, which may have worked had she not been only slightly taller than one of Santa’s elves. I was kinda upset that at my ankle biting height of 5’ 4” – shorter than 85% of the population – I had to get behind the one person in Costco shorter than I am.
Fortunately, the instructor is… how can I say this without sounding mean… he’s totally full of himself. And even more fortunate, he didn’t notice the stinky, sweaty girl in yoga pants pretending to tie her shoes for the 9 ½ minutes it took for him to leave.
My reputation is saved.