So. Remember how I used to go the gym but I swore I could do it all on my own and ha! I would never go back?

I lied.

Today was my first day back and besides my momentary locker room paralyzation in which I tried to pry my feet from the floor in hopes of moving towards the actual part of the gym where people do fitness oriented things, I think it went well.

So. Once the stage fright (my, but I do get stage fright over many things) left, I cruised on up to the Palace de Cardio, hopped on the least threatening piece of equipment (no, not that) I could find, and took a quick look at the old guy next to me who was watching as I set my programme.

And suddenly I had placed myself into steady competition with an extremely old man wearing wrist guards on a recumbent bicycle. Lovely.

Thirty minutes later, Wrist-Guard Boy hopped off his bike and I was left wanting to stick my tongue out at him in a strange sort of "I am the winner!" preschool gloat.

I restrained myself, however, and moved on to what I like to call the Estrogym. This is where all the chicks that are too scared to workout on the main floor with the scary-giant-men-of-much-crazy-muscle hang out. One of the women that had been doing lunges up on the track was already in this room, hanging from some contraption in the air as she sweated her way to the Muscle Diva centerfold of her dreams. Fearful that staring at her for too long would make bad things happen, I talked with a friend as I worked out muscles I had forgotten belonged to me.

Strangely, now even a can of sodie-pop is too heavy for me.

I commented to Son Numero Dos that my muscles were sore, but his retort was this:

"You don't have any muscles, Mom!"

So now, you see, I must go back. If only in hopes of one day making SND eat his words.

Besides, Muscle Diva is kinda cute.

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