Ow.
Earlier this week, my husband and I joined a gym. We've both belonged to separate gyms for years now, but since my gym was a bare bones women only facility and his had so few machines that he always had to wait for one, we decided to join a gym together that had everything we wanted.
With our membership, we each are entitled to one free session with a personal trainer, and yesterday, I went in for mine. After a brief question-and-answer period (When was the last time you had the ideal body you wanted? As if to say I ever did!) and a body fat analysis, we got to work. The trainer decided to start with my legs and threw me right into doing lunges while lifting weights over my head. From there, we moved on to squats, then squats with a bar, then to leg presses.
Side note: The trainer's name is Buddy. What a laugh that is.
When we sat down to discuss further training, I wasn't sure I would be able to get up. For the rest of yesterday, every time I had to stand up, sit down or go up or down stairs, I had to hold onto something. I went to get a manicure and almost fell out of the chair when I sat down. (In my defense, the chair was on wheels, and the floor was tile.) And today, I can't take a step without feeling like someone has removed all the muscles from my legs and replaced them with tree bark. I try to stay in one position as long as possible; if I'm standing, I stay standing, and if I'm sitting I don't get up till I know there's somewhere to go.
The truth is, I really do need the help. I'm not obese; I'm not unhealthy, but my body fat is higher than it should be, and besides, someday, I'd like to be able to have an answer for that ideal body question besides "infancy." But isn't exercise supposed to feel good? I hope that at some point it does, because my birthday is coming up, and it would really suck if, when people ask what I want, I'd have to say "one of those high toilet seats."
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