Today, Parker and I found a wasp in our room. After a short period of time spent trying to trap and kill it (which was enough excitement for ME), Parker couldn’t find it, so I suggested we leave the room, turn off all the fans and air conditioning and take away the water.
“I don’t want the wasp to have any luxuries,” I explained, when I was asked why I was taking the water.
Parker thought this was funny, but seriously, I don’t mess with terrorists. I leave them in closed rooms with no escape plan, no tools, and no water/food. I’m hoping it will perish before we go back in there tonight to sleep, because I don’t think I could sleep knowing that an evil overlord is ready at any moment to sting me, ever-vexed after being left alone all day to plot my doom. Seriously, I hate wasps. They don’t even die like bees do if they sting you. They just do it for the fun of it. They’re sociopaths (or are they psychopaths? I’m pretty sure I’m right, but if anyone wants to check).
I felt a little depressed this week, and a friend sent me this Buzzfeed page about exercising (not BECAUSE I was depressed, the two just happened to coincide). I was eating when I read it, an act of poor multi-tasking choices on my part.
When I was in high school, I was in pretty good shape. It’s hard to tell completely, because I was skinny anyway. I was in musicals where we had frequent dance rehearsals that kicked my ass, and they expected us to sing on top of that. Sorry everyone, sometimes I didn’t (sing, not dance–you can’t fake that shit). Even when it was off season, it didn’t really matter, because due to my social nature, I was always talking up a friend on the other side of the school. This resulted in me RUNNING to every class. I ran everywhere. You’d think I was a Doctor Who companion the way I was always booking it. I even got called Forrest Gump a couple of times. People in detention and the main office knew me well.My mom and I also got into arguments more frequently in high school and college, so I’d often take off running and just go until I stopped being so angry. Or until I got hungry/tired/wanted to watch tv.
But these days, I don’t run very much, unless I’m at work. Then it’s more of a jaunt. Which means I have to find my own ways of working out.
Really, the best working out I’ve done in the last few years, is when I was engaged. We had four months to plan a wedding, I was working a heinous job where I got yelled at a lot (primarily by clients), and we were moving.
Then one of my co-workers judged me for eating actual food when all she ever seemed to eat were brownies by saying I should watch my weight or I wouldn’t be able to fit into my wedding dress.
Like I wasn’t already crying all the time over everything. I don’t miss working there EVER.
Sometime earlier that year, I’d borrowed my mom’s indoor fitness bike. It was mustard yellow, couldn’t be newer than the 80’s, and was easy to lift in and out of the car. She objected at first. The higher ground was mine, because she never used it, and it had begun to live outside. I coerced her into letting me take it and assured her that if she WANTED to work out or felt like starting to, she could just come take it back. In the meantime, I would be cycling inside while it rained.
I would come home from work and research while reading passive aggressive emails from my mom, reminders from our church liason, and do marriage prep homework (the last one was a LOT of fun, but I’m crazy, so fun might mean something different to me). After a few hours of this, I would eat a little, and stress the shit out about getting everything done and having my wedding end in an explosion of chaos. I wasn’t worried about Parker and myself, just everything else having to do with moving and getting married.
By the time my evening freak out hit, I would turn on a movie or tv show, jump on my exercise bike, and peddle. Technically, you shouldn’t work out in the evening, because it revvs you up before sleeping. I’d like to remind you that I was under a lot of pressure. If insomnia struck as well later that night, I would do some pilates. Over and over until I thought I was going to pass out but didn’t.
I would do this in boxers and a t-shirt with a glass of white wine (not RED) on the dresser, the tv remote in my other hand. Sometimes, cycle (shut up, I called it that) WHILE I was eating, just to save time. And despite the fact that I’ve never been much of an exercise enthusiast, I did this for months leading up to the wedding. In fact, I cannot tell you the number of times I worked out the month before the wedding, but I was up to multiple times a day. I wasn’t working, and I was otherwise paralyzed with all the things I had to do.
I eventually had to duct tape the bike when part of the plastic base broke. Of course, I noticed it after I returned home so I’ll never know if it was me or one of my roommates. But judging by how hard I pushed myself on that thing, it was probably me.
I need to get back in shape. However, I just finished a big meal, so work out right now seems risky. Maybe later…By the way, I’ve checked the room a few times. There’s no sign of my sworn enemy. This means I’ll either have to wait until Parker returns or find some kind of aerating Has-mat suit. Or maybe just one with air conditioning.