SHINY NEW GYM=SHINY NEW ME?

I recently switched gyms to accommodate my ever-increasing need to shake my booty. The gym that I joined is a national chain and my membership allows me to visit any location in the US. Keep that in mind when MHS and I show up on our Harley at your doorstep begging for a place to stay. I need to stay fit on my roadtrips, ya know. Last week the chain opened a new location just for me. ……I knooowww! That’s what I thought. It’s right on my way to or from work. I have no excuses now. Geesh.

Today I tried out the new location. First, it smells good. That’s very important to me. I’m a smelly broad. I like things to smell good and at the gym, that’s not always a given. It was clean and all the equipment was shiny.

I met a new friend in the locker room. She told me all about how she comes to the gym for cardio but goes to a fancy (read EXPENSIVE) pilates spa in one of those botanical garden malls that are so popular in this area. Each class is $20. She goes 3 times a week. She was talking it up like a sales rep. (She wasn’t a sales rep) She told me all about how the core exercises have changed her life and promised they could do the same for me. Apparently she didn’t see the hole in my t-shirt. Spending $60 a week on pilates isn’t going to happen until I get my government bailout package. What? Isn’t that what the bank execs did? They went to a spa.

I missed the beginning of the mat pilates class because I was making new friends in the locker room so I went straight to my old friend, the elliptical. I jumped on, queued my ipod to my gym playlist and I was like an exercise animal. Believe that? Nah, I didn’t think so.

So I’m chugging along and all of a sudden I hear talking in the background of my music. A rhythmic sing-song of words that didn’t seem to go with the song and I’m thinking, “I don’t remember this part.” Then the next song had that same background voice talking. I look over to my right and there is a woman with headphones in her hears chatting away. I think, “This crazy woman is talking to her ipod.” And suddenly it occurs to me that her ipod is actually an iphone and she is giving a lecture having a conversation with some poor schmuck a friend. And she goes on and on and on and on.

Because I’m a grown-up I know how to handle these situations. I turned up my volume and began to jam to my favorite tunes on my own ipod-nonphone.

When it got to the part, “Everybody look left, everybody look right”, I did. And she was gone. I might have been singing. If you ever want to clear a room, call me.

And now peeps, it’s time for Jack. And nothing comes between me and my black ops hero.

I’M A RAMBLER

My mind is all over the place today. I’ve got randomness filling all the empty space in my brain and believe me, there’s a LOT of empty space in my brain.

I’m a little sad today. It’s the opening day of major league baseball and I didn’t make it to even one Spring training game. And I live sooooo close to the stadium where two teams train. I love going to baseball games. I’m not a big fan of baseball on television but being at the game is so cool. There is so much to entertain you at the game. My mother, Lucy, was the biggest Cubs fan ever. She was a card carrying member of the Cubs fan club since the 1930s. True story.

And let us not forget…….hotdogs. I only eat hotdogs outdoors. I never make them at home but I love hotdogs at ballgames, picnics, on the street, and at my beloved A&W or BK root beer stands in Indiana.

I went to the gym today. It was a must after completely blowing my diet all weekend long. How am I ever going to accomplish my goal by December if I lose every last ounce of my willpower in the first blasted week! Of course, I’m blaming the Biker Nazi.

I was able to get out of the office in time for the Latin Impact class but after not being able to walk around upright without the help of muscle relaxers yesterday, I thought it best to skip the dance class. I hit the elliptical instead. A woman who isn’t as desperate to make her goal by December didn’t have pub style fish and chips over the weekend is smarter might have avoided the risk of injury all together and took a knee.

I saw a woman in full make-up and costume jewelry while I was working out. I live in Palm Beach county and women in full make-up at the gym is really no surprise but costume jewelry? Seriously? If she gets a little crazy on the treadmill, she might beat herself to death.

I was antsy on the elliptical and having a hard time finding music on my ipod to suit me. My taste in music is eclectic for sure. I finally hit my stride when I found this:

I’m pretty sure that no one would have looked at me exercising and guessed that this was what was playing on my ipod. And don’t think for a minute that I didn’t want to dance around the gym saying Woo, woo! Because I really, really did.

And last but certainly not least, I’ve been honored with some very prestigious awards. First, Linda, of Crone and Bear It awarded me the Friendship award:

Thanks, Linda! The friends I have met since starting this blog have been a warm and wonderful surprise. I came here looking to express myself and found the added benefit of charming, witty, genuine friends. This award comes with only one instruction and that is to pass it on to three other bloggy friends. I’m choosing some new friends that are just as great as the old ones.

Debra of Well Behaved Women Rarely Make History-Debra is a fellow biker chick only she has her own bike!

Michel of Facts are Strictly Optional-Michel blogs about her life in Sudan where she lives while working at the US Embassy there.

Jane at Gaston Studio-Jane tells some great tales about her life today and cherished memories of yesterday.

Second, Oz Girl of City Girl Moves to Oz bestowed upon me the Lemonade out of Lemons award. Thanks Oz Girl!

I’m a true believer that when life hands you lemons, you should make lemonade. I hope you will forgive me, OG but I received this award once before recently so I’m going to be lame once again and skip the instructions about passing it on. Instead, I’m going to reach out into the blogosphere and ask, “Have you made lemonade out of lemons lately? If so, grab this award and run with it. You deserve it!

Thanks to Linda and OZ Girl for thinking of me for these very prestigious awards. You’re the best!

I hope you enjoyed the randomness that is me :)

Go Cubbies!

SMB

ONE DAY AT A TIME, MY ARSE! I want it NOW!

By now, you've probably seen the cover of this week's People magazine. You know the one with little Valerie Bertinelli, the girl we all loved in One Day at a Time. She is 48 now, soon to be 49 years old and revealed her smokin' hot, new body, in a bikini no less, on the cover. Yeah, I hate her. But seriously, good for her. This struck a chord with me because we are the same age. Well, she's a bit older. *smirk*

Ironically the People magazine arrived in my office mailbox yesterday: The very same day that I woke up, took one look in the mirror and said, "Who the hell are you?" I didn't recognize the face staring back at me. I look like crap! There are bags under my eyes that you could pack for a month long vacation. There are lines on my face that would give MapQuest a run for its money. I don't even want to talk about my grey roots. Does anyone know how to get your hair to stop growing? Oh and let's not forget the mini me that's attached itself to my mid-section. Oh yeah, there's a whole other person cohabitating with my body. I've got proof. Just look at the scale. Wait! Stop! You're just going to have to take my word for it on that. Bottom line: I've come to the realization that I'm no longer pushing forty. I'm draggin it.

It took a while but I finally got over the shock of this over-night transformation, (Don't tell me it didn't happen overnight. That's my story and I'm stickin to it.) So I sat myself down and had a talk with myself. It went something like this:

Me: "Damn, girl! You've really let yourself go."

Me also: "Go where? Where are we going? "

*Apparently the new me is not only a wreck, she's also stupid. Grrr.*

Me: "We've got to do something about this. What do you propose that we do?"

Me also: "I like donuts. Can we go get donuts?"

Me: "That's it. You're going back to the gym today! You're going back on the South Beach Diet" There is no excuse for a woman your age to let herself go like this, Do you hear me, Soldier?"

Me also: "Does that mean we can't stop at Dunkin Donuts? Not even for a muffin?"

Me: "You are really thick, you know it?"

So then I get to the office and see cutesy, little Ms. Bertinelli on the cover. That might have p*ssed off a weaker woman. Not me! It just strengthened my resolve. If VB can do it by her 49^th birthday, by gosh, so can I. *Oh dear Lord, have I lost my mind?*

I've got until December 2009 to literally get my rear in gear. I'm going to start drinking more water and less wine beer coffee. I'm going to get more rest. I'm going to hit the gym or exercise elsewhere vigorously 4-5 times a week. I am going to follow the South Beach Diet because it works for me when I actually follow it. I'm not saying that I'll be modeling any bikini come December but mark my words:

I will be a smaller, fitter, crankier happier Smart Mouth Broad.

And I'll be doing it all…….One Day at a Time.

I’M THE WINNER! ………and the loser

Ladies and Gentlemen, things are looking up. I, Smart Mouth Broad, have won a prize. I never win anything. But those days are over………..because today…………I'm a WINNER! Last week, Midlife Slices posted a quiz on her blog. What she didn't tell us was that whoever answered the question correctly would win a prize. You just never know what leaving a comment will bring you. Well, it took me practically all day but I kept guessing and finally got the answer. We won't mention that not a lot of work got done at my desk that day.

My Harley Stud called me at work today to let me know a package had arrived at the house for me. I told him to open it. He recognized the Texas address and thought he heard something ticking inside said he thought I should open it myself since it was my prize.

Only the most beautiful cosmetic case ever!

And look! It's really three prizes in one!

Thanks, Midlife Slices! My cosmetics have never been housed so beautifully!

Things are certainly turning around. If I'm winning prizes, can economic recovery be far behind?

I also wanted to give you an update on my ongoing quest for fitness and the search for the lost physique of my youth. I've been a little embarrassed to mention this before now but remember that yoga class last week? Well………apparently there were muscles stretched and awakened that had been hibernating since the Stone Age. I've been suffering from muscle spasms in my back and neck since the following day. I've been on muscle relaxers and ibuprofen all weekend. Today, still feeling stiff and kinky (not like that, you pervs) I decided instead of self-medicating, I was going to shake it off at the gym by taking a Latin Impact class. I know……………………looking back it doesn't seem like such a good idea to me either.

First, if I haven't made this clear in the past, I live in South Florida where we have a huge Latin population. The instructor for this class is Hispanic. Every woman in the class seems to be of Latin descent. And in walks the WASP. But it wasn't my looks that made me stand out in the crowd.

The class began and it quickly became very clear that I have been gifted with amazing Latin dance moves no Latin hips. I seem to want to involve my torso too much when it's the hips that are supposed to be doing all the work. I can't dance free-style but if you give me choreography, I can learn anything. The problem is that learning the moves is one thing. Making them look good is quite another. The entire class is in Spanish. That certainly doesn't help. After 28 years of living in South Florida, I am fluent in a few select phrases. I can say "I'm sorry, Ma'am but *Spanish speaking co-worker* is not in the office now. Please call back later. Or "in 5 minutes." Or "tomorrow. " And I do it so well that Spanish speaking people will then launch into their entire story in Spanish at which point, I have to inform them in English that I'm done. That's all I know.

The instructor smiled at me a lot. Not the kind of smile that says, Bravo, SMB, you are doing awesome! Who knew you could move like that! No, that's not the look. This look is more……….pobre y pobre gringa. That's the best I can do with free translations dot com. Meaning loosely: You poor, poor, American woman. To my Spanish speaking readers, please accept my apologies for butchering your beautiful language.

Don't think that will stop me though. I had a great time. I'll go back even if the teacher does think I'm a loser. If I haven't proven it already, I'm not easily embarrassed. Have I mentioned this class is in a room that faces the gym with a glass wall? That's right, the entire gym can and does watch the class in progress. Who cares! I'm having fun.

All I really need is Max from Dancing with the Stars to work with me a little. I'm sure he could teach me to move my hips.

And if I'm not in traction tomorrow, I'm going back to yoga on Wednesday.

I MISS BUTCH

I miss Butch. I'm lost. Seriously. One day and I'm hooked. Never mind the fact that in this economy I'm afraid to spend even a dollar that I don't have to because I don't know where the next dime is coming from. Never mind that the cost of a personal trainer is like a car payment. Never mind that for the past 48 hours, I've found it hard to rise from or lower into a seated position. Never mind that the bastard threw my age in my face. Before Monday, I never knew what I was missing. But now……………well……………..there's no going back.

No, I'm not going to hire Butch as my personal trainer unless I win the lottery. But I would REALLY like to. And since I don't buy tickets, winning the lottery is not likely. Butch made it interesting. I'll just long for the day when money is no object. Butch pushed me. Butch ridiculed me. OK, maybe I don't miss that part so much. Butch knew what he was doing. And therein lies the problem.

This is a new gym for me. I may not have gotten great results at my old gym but I knew where everything was and how it worked. The torture exercise equipment at this gym is unfamiliar to me. Who knew there could be so many different ways to work a muscle?

I returned to the gym yesterday sans Butch at my side. It was pull day. That means biceps and …..uh……..chest, I think. I guess I should have taken notes. Armed with my ipod jamming away, I walked to the section where Butch had shown me the "pull" machines where. The only one I recognized had two men working there and they didn't move away during my entire workout. I was finally able to decipher the code to work a few of the machines. I set my weight at 30lbs. I have no idea if that is too much or too little but I used to do much more. But I'm starting over now and I didn't want to over-do. I worked my way through four machines and decided since Butch was nowhere to be seen that should be enough for one day. I walked upstairs to my old friend the elliptical. Now don't forget that Butch told me to do no more than 30 minutes cardio and that I should stay in the "fat-burning" zone which means my heart rate should be no higher than 120. At first, I thought this sounded great. I don't have to exercise as long as I was doing before and I don't have to work as hard. This proved to be more difficult that you might think.

I'm not sure but I think my heart rate was higher than 120 when I got on the machine. I had to climb two flights of stairs just to get there. I was never able to get my heart rate below 129. According to Butch, if you work too hard during cardio, you start to burn muscle instead of burning fat. I thought I was going to like working out with less intensity. Instead, I found it very challenging. I flipped through several songs on my ipod trying to find the right tempo. I finally settled on these:

• Michael pre-27 nose jobs and hanging baby off the balcony Jackson's The Way You Make Me Feel. (This is such a great song. You can't help but move. The tempo was a little too quick so I had to visualize myself doing slow, controlled plies. This practice worked to some extent.)
  
• John Cougar Mellancamp's Cherry Bomb. (I got to daydream about the good old days when a sport was a sport and holding hands meant something…………baby.)
  
• Sara Evans' Otis Redding. (If you've never heard this song, you're missing it. It stirs my soul and evokes emotion in me that make me long for a simpler time)
  
• Marty Stuart and Johnny Cash singing Doin My Time. (Not only was the tempo a little slower but doin' my time was a nice fit, don't you think? Prison, Gym……..Potato, Potatto)
  
• Crystal Lewis' God's Been Good to Me (The story of my Life)
  

Thirty minutes of cardio completed and I was out the door. I noticed today at work as the day wore on that it became harder and harder to lift my arms. Butch would be so proud.

THE IRON BODY CURSE

At the very beginning of this blog I discussed my experience with tackling the Iron Bodies class at my gym. Since that time, I've been trying to make it back to the class. It's been ten weeks. It's a great work-out. The instructor is an incredible motivator. I can't get there. The class is held once a week. I missed a few opportunities due to work. That's understandable. But every time I think I am going to be able to leave my office in time to get there for the bodily punishment work-out of a lifetime, something gets in the way. One week my boss's youngest son was sick and I had to keep him until she finished with surgery. Another week, an impromptu birthday party was thrown for my niece, Smart Mouth in Training. I could hardly miss that. There have been other excuses reasons I haven't made it back. MHS's birthday was also on the same day the class is held. Obviously I am not suggesting that I would prefer to attend Iron Bodies instead of celebrating my husband's or even my niece's birthday. I'm just saying that every single week since that first week, I can't make it there.

Yesterday, I planned to leave work early to run an errand and then continue on to the gym and be there in plenty of time. I walked out to my car in the parking lot. As I'm walking, I notice that something is not right. The right rear tire on my car is flat. My tires are no more than 90 days old. I stood there and looked to make sure I was not just seeing things. I made the call to MHS to come and rescue me. Assured that my knight in shining armor was on his way, I went back to my office and called a friend. I know, I know, today's woman should be able to change her own tire. Nah, that's why I got married. *wink*

So once again another Wednesday comes and goes without seeing me at the Iron Bodies class. I think I'm cursed.

Meanwhile, Back at the Gym

Because of my work schedule, I haven’t been able to make it back for a second date with IRON BODIES. Yesterday, I finally got off work early enough make it to the class. The problem was I was there an hour early. So I decided rather than kill time until class started, I would just do my normal cardio routine instead of IRON BODIES but I promised myself I would kick it up a notch or two. I started with thirteen minutes on the Stairmaster at level 6. I usually do 12 minutes at level 5. I know, right? I’m a wild woman! The stairs kill me. I sweat like a pig while climbing and I’m pretty sure that the mental age of my knees is 92. Then it was off to the stationery bicycle where I put in 25 minutes at level 5 doing the hill climbing simulation. I found this to be more challenging and a really good workout. All the while I am being motivated by the ever-inspiring MAMMA MIA soundtrack on my iPod. Once the bike was sufficiently conquered I moved on to the elliptical where I really got into gear. I’m in the ZONE. I am MOVING! My iPod is blaring “Give me, give me, give me a man after midnight”. OK, so MAMMA MIA is probably not the obvious choice for workout music but I find it to be very energizing and “surprisingly upbeat”. (movie?..... anyone?....)

So, I’m working, I’m pedaling, my arms are going. Suddenly I realize there is a thumping in my ears that doesn’t seem to be coming from my headphones. I can’t decide if this is my heart throbbing in my ears and I'm about to have a stroke or if I’m rocking the elliptical and about to tip. As I said, I’m in the ZONE so it was no time to stop and investigate. I kept on. The feet are pumping, the sweat is flying. I’m like a crazed woman. I eventually realize people are starting to take notice. A crowd starts to gather. People are whispering. Then chanting… “Go Smart Mouth, Go Smart Mouth”.

Alright, maybe it didn’t go quite like that. There definitely were people taking notice though. The guy on the machine next to me was giving me the eye. I think this is because I was breathing so hard it was distracting. I did see a couple staring at me and whispering. I imagine the conversation went like this:

“Do you think she is alright?”

“I don’t know.”

“Maybe we should call someone.”

“She looks like she is about to explode.”

“Look how red her face is.”

“Let’s get out of here.”

After the cool-down, I exited the gym victoriously. No gold medal but feeling like a winner. I just hope that later today and/or tomorrow, I will still be able to tie my shoes.

Mini Mid-Life Crisis

What was I thinking!

After hearing those dreaded words from my physician the other day informing me of my advancing age, I hauled myself into the gym. As I explained to my doctor, I exercise regularly and have for 2 ½ years. I have to admit that my routine has become a bit stale and I haven’t felt challenged for awhile. Maybe I need to try something new. These were the thoughts that were going through my head as I walked into the gym. I am not someone who truly enjoys the process of working out. The whole “runner’s high” thing – never experienced it. I’ve run 6k and 10k runs before………..nothing. My favorite part is when it’s over. But I realize that working out is a necessary evil in my life and I trudge on. The most enjoyable experience I’ve had while exercising has been taking aerobics classes. I think this is because I enjoy laughing even if it’s at myself. So anyway, I stopped at the desk on my way into the gym and asked if they plan to add any evening classes. I was told they do not. The classes are not well attended and they have to pay the instructors. I wanted to say that maybe the classes might be better attended if they held them when average people weren’t at work. I didn’t say that though. Instead, I continued on to the locker room and started up a conversation on this topic with a complete stranger. My new friend suggested that I try the IRON BODIES class that she was on her way to right that very moment. I made my “I don’t think so face” and told her that I thought I might be better matched with a Soft, Round, Cushy Body class. “Do they have any of those?” She smiled very sweetly and told me that the class is a great all over body work-out, you don’t need to bring anything more than a towel and water and you can go at your own pace. Uh, huh. Right.

For some reason that still is a mystery to me, I followed her into the classroom where IRON BODIES was being held. The instructor, Chris, looked like a nice enough man. He welcomed me as “fresh meat” and smiled as he instructed me to be sure to work at my own pace.

The music began. We used all sorts of toys during the class. There were steps, free weights, body bars, and rubber bands. We ran, forward and backward, we lunged, we lifted and moved to the music in ways this tired body has not moved for awhile. At mid-point in the class, as I was gasping for air and gulping down water, the nice woman from the locker room asked how I was doing. As I wiped the sweat from my brow, I told her that I didn’t think we could be friends. She offered encouragement saying that I was doing great. I was not convinced.

I don’t really consider myself competitive but at some point I completely forgot those words “at your own pace”. I don’t know what happened to me. I was determined to keep up with my classmates that have been taking this class on a regular basis. I’m not saying that I was keeping up with them but I was certainly trying. I didn’t quit. There were times I had to slow down to avoid collapsing in an embarrassing heap on the floor. But eventually we arrived at my favorite part: The end. I walked out of the gym on that day proud of my accomplishment. Thoughts like,” don’t tell me I’m getting older.”, “I’ve still got it.” “I finished, didn’t I? “ all went through my head.

Driving home, it occurred to me that maybe pushing myself to the limit on the very day that my doctor tells me that my blood pressure is high and I could be at risk for stroke might not have been the most intelligent decision I’ve ever made. What was I thinking! I think I could be having my own mini mid-life crisis. My “I’ll show you” attitude would not have played well had I stroked out on the dance floor.

Around 4:30pm the next day, I was reminded of my foolish behavior the day before. I had trouble standing up from my desk. For the next two days, I was stiff and sore beyond belief. Returning to the gym was out of the question as walking was barely possible. Oh yeah, I really showed ‘em.

You know, I really thought I was above all this. I thought getting older wouldn’t bother me. And it didn’t until that day that I woke up and saw bags under my eyes that don’t disappear after I’m completely awake, lines around my mouth and excess me around the middle that doesn’t want to budge no matter how much I diet and exercise. Oh and let us not forget the words of Dr. Good News. So apparently, I’m not above it all. I wonder if there a way to approach 50 years old …………….. (someday) …………..without having at least an occasional melt-down? Is there a way to escape this desperate attempt to hang on to our youth or is it something that we should just embrace and go for it?

Will there be another IRON BODIES class in my future? You bet but this time I will go at my own pace with nothing to prove to anyone but myself. And the next time I see a middle-aged, overweight, balding man in a little red corvette, I will still smile but it will be a knowing smile saying, hey, buddy, I’m right there with you.